


Alone, Together

by spinebuster



Category: Men's Hockey RPF, NHL - Fandom, Toronto Maple Leafs - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2020-12-16 23:36:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 46
Words: 219,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21044654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinebuster/pseuds/spinebuster
Summary: Bee McTavish and Morgan Rielly are thrust together after a waiter notices they are reading the same book in a Toronto restaurant.  Bee might be the only person in Toronto who doesn’t watch hockey, and Morgan might be the only person to actually appreciate that.





	1. Prologue

On a somewhat busy but manageable night, a waiter watched two young people, both alone, sit in their respective booths not interacting with anybody but him. The girl – very sweet, very brunette, very quiet – ordered a ginger ale and was busy reading the contents of her book while waiting for her grilled chicken Caesar wrap and sweet potato fries. The boy – very big, very blonde, very pensive – sipped on his lemon water and was busy reading the contents of his book while waiting for his grilled chicken Caesar wrap and sweet potato fries. 

Carlo knew it was fate. Carlo was also bored. Carlo knew he had to intervene. 

“Don’t you dare do it,” his co-worker hissed at him, grabbing his bicep as if it would stop him from finishing off the mojito he was mixing.

“Why not?” Carlo wiggled his eyebrows, grabbing onto the mojito he just mixed despite not a single patron in the restaurant asking for one.

“Just don’t.”

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.”

“Um, interfering in people’s lives?”

“It’s not interfering! She’s reading, he’s reading; she ordered the grilled chicken Caesar wrap, he ordered the grilled chicken Caesar wrap. It’s perfect! It’s meant to be! They’re both alone, in this restaurant on a Tuesday night. They need to meet!” he explained himself.

“That’s not a good reason, Carlo.”

“It’s a good a reason as any.”

“Don’t you dare go over the – Carlo!” she hissed to no avail. He was on his way to deliver the drink, and she was going to die from embarrassment. She may as well just go home now – her shift ended in half an hour anyway.

Carlo smiled as he walked towards the table where the very sweet, very brunette, very quiet girl sat and sipped on ginger ale as she waited for her food. He took a very brief look at the very big, very blonde, very pensive boy’s table down the row of booths. This was going to work. It had to work. He was ending his shift and he needed to see something happen on this dreary Tuesday evening before he went home. The restaurant was pretty full, so he knew he would be able to get away with it. If he had to be the one to make it happen, then so be it.

“Excuse me, miss?” Carlo said politely. The girl looked up from her book. “This is for you,” he placed the drink on the table delicately. She watched in confusion. “Courtesy of another patron at the restaurant.”

The girl looked as if she’d just seen a ghost. “What? Which patron?” she asked.

Carlo smirked as he nodded his head over to the boy, facing away from them a few booths down the row. His blonde hair stuck out in every direction and he looked slightly slumped over. From this angle, they could only see his broad shoulders. Carlo thought that might be enough for the girl to swoon anyway. Girls always loved big, broad shoulders.

The girl looked at him for answers, but Carlo pretended he had none, shrugging. “Are you serious?” she asked.

“As serious as a stroke,” he commented, trying not to let a smile escape from his lips. “Why? Are you surprised?”

“Nobody’s ever done this to me before,” she revealed.

Carlo felt a pang of excitement. “Why don’t you sit with it for a bit, hmm? I bet he just wants to say hello. He seems like a nice guy.”

The girl couldn’t really believe what was happening. She had decided to come to the restaurant because she knew it would be a quiet night – it was Tuesday, for God’s sake – and suddenly this happened. She was here to eat. She was here to read. Who even was this guy? Why would he buy a drink and send it to her table? Why wouldn’t he just approach her like a regular human being? God, she had to go talk to him now, didn’t she? She’d have to go and reject the drink. Who even sends a mojito, anyway? 

She sighed heavily. She was actually going to have to do this.

She laid her book flat on the table and picked up the drink and slipped out of her booth, walking gingerly towards the man’s booth. She should have planned what she was going to say. At this rate, everything that was going to come out was going to be word vomit. 

“Excuse me?” she said delicately, trying not to be too obtrusive, though his actions were very obtrusive. The boy looked up from whatever he was looking at in his lap – probably his phone – and gave her a puzzled look. “I understand you sent this to my table, and I know I’m supposed to take it as a compliment, and be very flattered about it or whatever, but I hate mojitos, so –”

“Excuse me…what?” the boy interrupted, as confused as she was when the drink was placed on her table moments before. He looked between her and the mojito briefly. “What drink?”

“The drink you sent to my table. The mojito. I can’t accept it.”

He chuckled nervously, shifting uncomfortably so he could face the girl. “I think there must be some kind of mistake,” he said. “I didn’t send a drink to anyone’s table.” 

“But the waiter said it was from you,” she persisted.

“I didn’t send a drink to anyone’s table,” he repeated. “I’ve just been here all night minding my own business,” he motioned absentmindedly to the back cover of the book perched between his lap and the table’s edge.

The girl became slightly annoyed. If this guy was going to play dumb until she gave into him she was really going to lose it. She wasn’t in the mood to deal with such behaviour and she really wasn’t in the mood to cuss some guy out for his behaviour on what should have been a quiet Tuesday night. “Listen, I don’t know if this is some weird, somehow flirty gaslighting thing, or…” she began, trailing off when the boy flashed his book and she recognized, almost immediately, the pictures and detailing on the back sleeve. She lost her train of thought, instead focusing in on the book in his lap. “Wait, are you reading Friedman?”

The boy looked taken aback for a brief second, as if she had suddenly started speaking a foreign language and demanded he answer. “Uh… y…yes…”

Suddenly the mojito was a thing of the past. “He’s good, isn’t he?” she asked. “That chapter on geopolitics is really something.”

She saw a quick spark flash across the boy’s eyes. “Oh! I uh, I haven’t gotten to that chapter yet. I just started a few days ago.”

“This is so weird,” she rolled her eyes slightly. “I’m uh, I’m reading that same book right now.”

Instead of being freaked out, as any person really would be in such a situation, a true, genuine smile spread across the boy’s face. “Oh, no way! What a coincidence.”

“Seriously, you’ll love the chapter about community. He makes some really good points. I devoured it in a few days and –”

“Excuse me, miss?” a waitress smiled politely, so terribly sorry to be interrupting the conversation. The girl turned around to see her plate with her grilled chicken Caesar wrap with sweet potato fries in one hand and her ginger ale in the other. The book in question was tucked underneath the waitress’s arm. “Here is your meal! Thank you for giving up your table for the family coming in soon.” 

“Oh! Oh God, wh–what? I didn’t –”

“It was so kind of you!” the waitress smiled, setting the food and drink down on the table, followed by the book. “What a coincidence that you and your friend are eating at the same restaurant!”

“No no, you don’t understand – I need my table back. He’s not –”

“The family also thanks you, I’m sure.”

“I don’t mind,” the boy said at the same time as the waitress, causing the girl to look at him nervously. “I really don’t mind,” he repeated, motioning to the seat across from him in the booth. “You don’t exactly look like you can kill me. Plus, you can explain the geopolitics chapter to me, cause I have a feeling it’s gonna take me a few tries before I get it.”

“I…is this for real right now? I didn’t give up my table,” the girl said, but by the time she looked back at the waitress, she was already gone. Her heart sunk into her stomach. She looked back at the boy, and at her food and drink and book placed there on the table, and she wanted to shrivel up into a hole right then and there. “I really don’t want to be rude,” she said.

“You’re not being rude. It’s fine. Completely unexpected, and probably at the top of my list of weird coincidences to happen to me, ever, but it’s fine,” he assured her.

“Are you sure?”

“Are you a serial killer?”

She snorted. “No.”

“Well, I guess it’s better than eating alone,” he shrugged. “Unless you’re with someone,” he took a quick look around.

“I’m not with…no –” she said hesitantly, looking out for the waitress one last time. “What the fuck just happened?”

“Just relax,” the boy shrugged, motioning her to sit on the bench across from him in the booth. She did so slowly, sliding in, taking a look around the restaurant for the waiter who brought her the drink, or the waitress who had essentially kicked her out of her seat. Both had seemingly vanished.

“This is all out of some movie, right? These things don’t happen in real life,” she commented. “I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have –”

“It’s not your fault,” the boy waved her off. “Somebody must have played a prank on you, because I didn’t send a drink to your table. But yeah, what are the chances?” he nodded his head between their identical books, now both on the table. “I’m Morgan, by the way,” he extended his hand politely across the table. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“This is so, so weird, but it’s nice to meet you too,” she shook his hand. “I’m Bee.”


	2. Chapter 1

Alone, Together 1

Bee didn’t understand how the universe conspired in such a way to have her sit across from this large man named Morgan, but the longer she sat with him, the longer she realized she couldn’t complain. Things like this could go so horribly – the person could not talk at all; the person could talk too much; the person could be creepy, invasive, or a serial killer – but Bee wasn’t scared as she sat across from him. He seemed mellow enough, taking the situation of them being thrust together in stride. It didn’t interrupt him from eating his food, or drinking his lemon water, and instead, they settle into a semi-comfortable back and forth conversations of questions to get to know each other. What else could they do?

“So…why are you reading Friedman?” he asked, popping a fry into his mouth.

“Um, a friend recommended it to me. I’m kind of reading it just for fun.”

Morgan seemed shocked as the words came out of her mouth. “You’re reading it for fun?” he asked. “What about Friedman is fun?”

“It’s not. Sorry, that’s the wrong word,” she shook her head, embarrassed. “But it’s a bit of a break.”

“From what?” the look of shock on his face hadn’t left.

“Um, my life?” she tried to make a joke. His face lightened up a little bit but she knew she had to explain more. “I’m studying for my MFE at U of T. I’m also a TA so reading first year undergrad essays is also my personal form of hell. Between reading those and reading for my courses I’m a bit…well…I needed a bit of a break.”

“Wait,” Morgan held his hands up. “What’s an MFE?”

“A Master’s in Financial Economics.”

“At University of Toronto?”

“Yeah.”

“And you teach?”

“At university, yes. I’m a teaching assistant. So like, the professor has us, his minions, who lead smaller group tutorials where we discuss the course readings,” she explained. “My tutorial group has around 30 students in it.”

“And Friedman is a break to you because of this?”

She couldn’t help but giggle. “Yes. I know it seems crazy, but yes.” 

Morgan cracked a smile and she tried to grab her wrap to keep her from blushing after her giggle. “That’s nuts,” he commented. “I’m feeling very inadequate right now.”

Bee’s face completely dropped. “Oh my God, no – no – I didn’t mean --”

“Relax, relax. I’m joking,” he said, popping another fry into his mouth. “How far along are you in your Master’s?”

“I’m in my last term.”

“And what’s the plan after?”

Bee took this as a bit of a weird question. Was not the ‘plan’ for everybody to find a well-paying job to be self-sustainable and contribute to society? What did he think she wanted to do? “Oh, you know, find a sugar daddy and just live off the gifts he gives me,” she shrugged her shoulders casually, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Morgan snorted at her reply, and she was glad he picked up on the ridiculousness of her response. “Well the plan is to obviously find a job. Maybe at a bank or some corporation or something. I don’t know. I recently completed an internship at Scotiabank so I’m hoping that gets me an in there.”

Morgan smirked. “So become a corporate drone,” Morgan teased her.

She smirked back at him. She enjoyed his sarcastic sense of humour, but two could play at that game. “Maybe. Or maybe my plan is to control the Canadian economy by flirting my way to the top and becoming the next Minister of Finance.”

Morgan let out a hearty laugh. “I don’t know. You’re obviously pretty smart. It doesn’t seem like you’d have to flirt your way to get anywhere.”

She appreciated the compliment, giving him a polite smile. “And what about you? What do you do?”

Bee watched as a quick sense of tenseness passed on Morgan’s face. “I work in the sports industry,” he said.

She had never met anyone in Toronto who worked in the offices for one of the major teams. Granted, she didn’t exactly mix with those types of people often, but it was still interesting to be sitting across from someone who did. She decided to give him a taste of his own medicine. “So let me guess. You want to schmooze your way to the top of like…I don’t know, being the head of the Toronto Blue Jays or something?”

Whatever tension that was on his face disappeared when he heard the joke. “Something like that,” he said. “Maybe I’ll be the next Alex Anthopoulos.”

“And to think, you got the idea from a random girl you sent a drink to one night,” she winked.

“I didn’t send a drink to your table,” he repeated his earlier sentiment definitively. “I’m telling you. You got pranked by someone else in here.”

“Whatever you say, Morgan.”

Bee was surprised at how natural the conversation was flowing. It was one thing to be this way with a friend – it was another to be this way with a complete stranger. But, judging by how the conversation was going, Morgan wasn’t a stranger anymore, was he? After moving on from dullness of their everyday jobs, they started to talk about other interests. TV shows. Movies. What other books they had read, or planned to read. What their favourite genre was. Where they liked to eat in Toronto. What they liked to do. Where they liked to go. Morgan ordered dessert. Bee kept ordering ginger ale. 

By the time the waitress brought the bill, Morgan took care of it. Bee insisted, but he insisted more. When she insisted that she had to contribute something he said, “Contribute your number and we’re even.” He said it in the smoothest, most nonchalant tone of voice that Bee was actually taken aback for a brief moment. When she nervously smiled and giggled and let out a small ‘sure’, Morgan smiled and nervously giggled and took out his phone to exchange numbers.

When preparing to leave, they both leaned in to hug each other. Bee got a true sense of his size only when she was up against him, his broad arms engulfing her tightly, but only for a brief second before letting her go. 

“This is the weirdest experience to ever happen to me, but it was really nice to meet you,” Morgan said as he pulled away. 

“Me too,” Bee said, suddenly a bit nervous. She hated to admit it, but she didn’t exactly want the conversation to end. “I’ll uh…I’ll let you know when I’m done Friedman and tell you what to look out for.”

“Please do, because I have a feeling I’m in for it,” he said as they both lingered in front of the glass window of the restaurant. “You sure you’ll get home okay? I can call an Uber for you.”

“I literally live a five minute walk from here. It’s fine,” she waved him off. “Um…I’ll talk to you later?”

“Yeah…” he nodded, a strong smile creeping onto his face. “Yeah, for sure.”

As they went their opposite ways, Bee couldn’t help the blush that came over her, and she wondered if any of the passers-by noticed it. When she was far enough from him (okay, she kept looking back to make sure he couldn’t see her), she took out her phone again and opened the conversation she was having with her best friend, Angie. 

I just met someone

One of those weird ‘high school reunion’ encounters we were talking about this week?

No no. I met a guy.

OMG  
omg  
what?  
who?  
where?

I was at green cactus and a waiter brought a drink to my table  
And he said it was from this guy but when I approached him about it he denied it  
And then all of the sudden I notice we’re reading the same book  
Friedman  
And I guess the waitress thought we would join each other cause like a split second after she just brought all my food to his table  
And I ended up eating with him  
And it’s been like two hours  
And we just left, but we exchanged numbers

omg   
OMG  
you guys were reading the same book???

Yeah 

Bee this is fate  
It’s F A T E   
Bee you have to text him  
PLEASE

It was so weird  
That’s never happened to me before  
It was like this super random thing but we ended up talking for so long

Bee, you need to text him  
You NEED to text him  
I can’t believe you were reading the same book?!

Yeah, super random right?

It’s random but it’s FATE  
When you get home, text him  
Pls  
Do it for me  
I don’t want to see you become an old spinster  
You’re not Anne Elliot   
You’re BEE MCTAVISH

Bee giggled at her best friend’s antics as she fished her keys out of her small purse. She entered her apartment – a old, tiny, cramped, abode on the first floor of a converted multi-unit Annex house – and immediately hung her purse on a hook. 

I’m going to take a shower. See u l8r ☺

BEE DON’T YOU DARE  
DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE  
I WILL COME OVER TO YOUR HOUSE AND I WILL MURDER YOU  
BEE  
ANSWER ME  
ANSWER ME!!!!!!!!  
IF YOU DON’T TEXT HIM I WILL STEAL YOUR PHONE AND TEXT HIM FOR YOU

Only about half an hour later, Bee sat on her bed, wet hair wrapped in a towel, and stared at her phone screen. Stared at Morgan’s number. Stared at the message screen and keyboard.

Did you want to meet up again soon? Maybe this weekend? 

She absolutely cringed as she hit send. God, she was a grown woman and she was cringing at herself. She couldn’t believe she was doing this. With Morgan. With any guy, to be honest. But she trusted Angie. And more than anything, she trusted herself to judge a good character. Morgan was a good character. At least what she saw of him that night.

Can’t do this weekend. I’m out of town. Maybe when I get back?

Oh. Oh. So he was going to be one of those. Her friends warned her about these types. The type that would say they wanted to see you again but then kept blowing you off. The type that would ghost you completely. Suddenly she wasn’t so happy anymore. Suddenly she felt angry at the possibility that he had just wasted almost two hours of her time on some guy that was going to completely ghost her. Two hours of her time on a guy that wouldn’t give her a second thought. Two hours of her time, only to have her question her own judgement because she thought he was a good guy.

If you don’t want to see me again just let me know now 

She texted back quickly, almost regretting it. But if Morgan was going to be an asshole, she would willingly be an asshole back. She was too busy and too proud to be waiting for someone who didn’t want to give her the time of day.

No  
No no  
I really am out of town  
I come back late Monday night  
I can see you Tuesday  
I swear

The texts came in quick succession, one after another, followed by a screenshot of his phone screen showing an e-ticket for a flight to Montreal. Bee cringed even more than she did when she sent her initial message. 

Sorry. I guess that’s for work.

I really do want to see you. Can we make it Tuesday?

Sure. My tutorial ends at noon. Where can I meet you?

I’ll meet you on campus. Where is your tutorial?

She couldn’t help but smile at the fact that he wanted to meet her on campus. She began wondering what it would be like for him to navigate U of T and its buildings. He never specified which university he went to.

Sidney Smith Hall on St. George Street  
You can meet me at the front

Thanks  
Can’t wait

Bee tossed her phone on the duvet cover, unable to look at the text for a moment longer. Can’t wait.


	3. Chapter 2

Bee was hiding behind a wall. Like an idiot.

She had finished her tutorial almost ten minutes ago but was too much of a chicken shit to make her way into the foyer of Sidney Smith where she had peeked earlier, only to see Morgan sitting on one of the chairs, intermittently looking down at his phone and looking around for her. Her stomach was in knots and she had no idea why. They had mutually agreed to this – it wasn’t like he was a stalker or anything. She had been excited about it leading up to this. She’d even texted Angie about it. There was no reason to be nervous. None.

Her phone buzzed in her hand, and she looked down quickly to see Angie’s name flash across the screen. I don’t care if I’m in Kingston rn, I will force you to see him if you somehow cancel or chicken out. I will fuckin walk back to Toronto if I have to.

Bee knew that Angie meant it. She took one last peek at Morgan and took a deep breath, readjusting her bag on her shoulder before walking out on wobbly legs. 

Morgan saw her almost immediately. He had been looking down at his phone but the second she started walking from behind the wall, he looked up and saw her. A quick smile adorned his face before he waved and got up from the chair, smoothing down his pants and adjusting his shirt. Bee waved back. The closer she got, the closer she could see bits of his blonde hair sticking out from beneath his hat. 

“Hey,” he said, giving her a quick up-down. “How’s it going?”

“Good, thanks,” she nodded her head. “Sorry I’m a bit late. Some students had some questions one was rushing to hand in his last essay,” she fibbed slightly. A student did have one question. It took her all of two minutes to answer. Everyone had handed their essay in at the beginning of class.

“Don’t worry about it,” he waved her off. “Did you have lunch yet? Do you want to grab something to eat?”

Bee looked towards the door and saw how sunny it was outside. She was also well aware of the peanut butter and jelly sandwich she had in her bag. “You want to just take a walk?” she asked. 

“Yeah, that’s cool,” he agreed with her quickly, following her eyes to look outside. “I’ve actually never been on campus before. I’ve been around the perimeter, obviously. But never actually on campus.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing. It’s beautiful around here.”

“Mind if I just grab some coffee and a sandwich, then?”

Bee hadn’t even considered that Morgan hadn’t had lunch yet and felt awful. “Oh my God, please!” she exclaimed. “I didn’t – I’m such an idiot – please go eat some lunch,” she shook her head at herself, causing Morgan to laugh. “I’m honestly the worst. Please don’t even – like – I have a sandwich in my bag and I figured you might have eaten a big breakfast or grabbed something before getting here and --”

“You can stop freaking out. It’s lunch. It’s not like I’ve been fasting all day and desperately need food,” he said. “You’re a bit of a neurotic, you know that?”

“It’s part and parcel of being a Master’s student at U of T, sweetheart,” she rolled her eyes. This wasn’t the first time someone was calling her neurotic. 

“Kinda reminds me of Larry David.”

She almost burst into a fit of laughter but she tried to remain stoic. “You better go get that sandwich before I kill you.”

As they made their way out of Sidney Smith and into the sunshine, Bee made the executive decision to bring Morgan to some of the prettier buildings on campus, particularly the quads of University College and Trinity College. He seemed enchanted enough as she talked about the buildings and her memories in them: how she had a class in Trinity College that made her want to bang her head against the old stone walls; how she once fell asleep under one of the trees at University College after an exam because she was so tired and didn’t have the energy to walk home; how Victoria College across campus had the best book sales every September and it was the only time of the year where she splurged on books she wanted but didn’t actually need. She had built up quite the collection over the years. She always went on the first day, to get the best selection, and made sure to bring at least three tote bags. She had a complete Ali Smith collection now – probably her absolute favourite modern author – and almost a full collection for F. Scott Fitzgerald, and Virginia Woolf, and she had just recently grabbed a copy of Persepolis for only three dollars and –

\-- And at that point, she realized she was rambling. 

“You can tell me to shut up, you know,” Bee said after she apologized for going on and on. “I’m always talking about economics shit and not about actual books…so, like, when someone lets me talk about them, I don’t stop.”

Morgan shook his head at the notion. “I could listen to you talk all day.”

Bee felt an immediate blush in her cheeks, and suddenly she was thankful that she kept her hair down today, if only so that it could possible hide the rouge. “Do you want to maybe sit and eat your sandwich?”

“I’m fine,” he said quickly. “What else do you want to show me?”

“I…” she was at a loss for words. Did he really want to spend the entire afternoon walking around a university campus with her? “Can we please stop so you can eat your sandwich? I feel really bad.”

Morgan couldn’t help but smile. “If you insist,” he shrugged his shoulders. “Should we just sit under this tree?” he motioned to the openness of the Trinity College quad. When Bee nodded her head, Morgan crossed his legs and plopped himself down on the grass. She followed suit, silently thanking herself for wearing jeans today, despite the fact that for the last few months they had fit a bit too snug around her hips and thighs. They were probably one of the oldest pairs she had and they served her well, but her body at 18 was not the same as her body now at 23. It was just a fact of life. 

She watched as Morgan unwrapped the sandwich he bought out of the cellophane wrapping, making sure none of the ingredients spilled out onto the grass. She took the opportunity to slip her hand into her bag to grab her own peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Morgan took one last look around at the old stone building before grabbing a half of his sandwich. 

The simplest of his movements were endearing to her. There was no preface around him; no air of graces or formality or stiffness – just a defined kindness and humbleness; a sense of gentleness, humanity, and unpretentiousness. He was just Morgan. And she was just Bee. And here they were, sitting in a quad in the middle of Toronto, eating sandwiches.

“Can I ask you a question?” she asked suddenly.

“Of course.”

“What university did you go to?”

Morgan took a giant bite out of his sandwich. “I never went to university,” he revealed through a full mouth. He was polite enough to shield it with his hand. “I sort of…you know, worked my way up the ladder type of deal.”

“Oh,” Bee was taken aback slightly at his answer. In this day and age, it was very rare to hear of someone who didn’t go to university, let alone someone who had a seemingly good job in the Toronto sports industry who didn’t go to university. She figured any one of those positions would have required some sort of degree, but she guessed she was wrong. Maybe there were still people out there who grinded hard in the workforce before they made it into a good position, and there were still people out there who hired those workhorses. “And how long have you been working in the sports industry?”

“Seven years in Toronto,” he said. “I’ve been here since 2013.”

“So you’re not from Toronto?”

“No. I’m from the west coast, actually. Vancouver.”

Bee cracked a smile. That was definitely new information. “You don’t seem like it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Bee shrugged her shoulders. “Everyone I’ve met from the west coast has been fucking weird.”

Morgan snorted and erupted into a fit of laughter at Bee’s words. “Wow Bee, that’s something.”

“It’s true!”

“Well I’d like to hear that story,” he commented.

“It’s not a story. It’s just…I don’t know. You meet a lot of people in academia. A lot of people come to U of T. And, like, all the people I’ve met from the west coast – old, young, male, female – without fail, there’s just something different about them.”

“You guys are just jealous we have the ocean and beautiful mountains,” he said matter-of-factly, taking another bite into his sandwich. “Jealous that we can go skiing in the morning and swimming in the afternoon. It’s alright, though. Whatever. I get it. The only mountains you have around here are hills and you think that counts but whatever.”

It was her turn to snort and laugh, knowing exactly that he was referring to Blue Mountain, a popular skiing destination for people from Toronto. And he was completely right in referring to it as a hill because, well, compared to the Canadian Rockies, it was a hill. “Touche, Morgan. Touche.”

“Can I ask you a question?” he asked.

“Of course.”

“What’s Bee stand for?”

“Briony.”

“Briony? That’s…why do you go by Bee? Briony’s such a nice name.”

Bee shrugged her shoulders. “No clue. I’ve just always been called Bee. It’s followed me everywhere.”

“Why’d your parents name you Briony if they were only gonna call you Bee?”

“You’re gonna have to ask my mother,” Bee rolled her eyes. “I think she told me once that she saw the name on the news and chose it that way. It’s not like it’s special or a family name or whatever. She literally just couldn’t think of or come up with anything else.”

“And your dad didn’t complain?” he asked.

Bee’s body stiffened slightly. “Dad was never in the picture,” she revealed. 

“Oh. Sorry,” Morgan said awkwardly. “I didn’t mean --”

“Don’t worry. It’s honestly not a big deal,” Bee said. “My mom hasn’t been in the picture for a while either, so, you know…whatever.”

She watched as Morgan’s eyebrows furrowed at her admission. “Why not?”

“I was legally emancipated from her at sixteen years old,” Bee revealed. “She was a pretty awful alcoholic my entire life. Ever since the emancipation there hasn’t been any effort to find me or keep in touch. I haven’t exactly tried to find her or keep in touch with her either, but to be completely honest, that’s probably for the best.”

Bee looked at Morgan, who was staring straight at her, an unidentifiable look on his face. She knew this was all a bit heavy for the second meeting with someone, but she had spent enough time on first dates or throughout relationships hiding the fact, only to be disappointed down the road when the supposedly ‘mature’ or ‘responsible’ man wasn’t mature or responsible enough to handle or understand her life story and the…unique perspective it gave her. She made the executive decision with herself to lay it out in the open at the beginning from now on. If they guy stuck around, good; if he left, even better. She didn’t want to waste time on anyone or anything. 

“That’s…” Morgan began, but it was clear he couldn’t find the right words. She waited for a few moments so he could formulate what he wanted to say. “So you were able to accomplish all this – university, a Master’s, an internship – you were able to do it all on your own.”

Bee smiled. If there was one thing Morgan could have taken from the small amount of information she just gave him about her life, that is what she would have wanted him to take. “Exactly.”

“That’s…you’re awesome, Briony.”

The words were music to her ears.

After their picnic, and after their continued walk through Queen’s Park to the other side of campus towards Victoria College and St. Mike’s College, Bee and Morgan stood outside of Museum Station, delaying the fact that Morgan had to meet up with a friend for dinner. He leaned against the wall of the stairs for entirely too long. To her credit or demise (she still wasn’t sure yet), she spent entirely too long talking about the ROM. She was absolutely sure Morgan had been to the ROM before, but she couldn’t shut up. 

“Are you busy Friday?” he asked finally, in the slightest lull of their conversation.

“No.”

“Can I take you out for drinks?” There was a slight hesitation in his voice. Bee figured that as the words came out of his mouth, he realized asking a girl who had just revealed she had an alcoholic mother out for drinks wasn’t the wisest thing to ask. “Even – I mean even if it’s not drinks. Even if it’s just another walk. Or snacks. Whatever. Can I take you out on Friday?”

Going out meant spending money. It meant not marking the stack of 30 essays she just received. It meant probably having to save money on her next grocery bill – no raspberries, or no avocado, or something else she’d have to work out. But beyond doing the mental math, beyond planning to mark more essays per day so she wouldn’t feel guilt about going out Friday, she began nodding her head. “Yeah. Yeah of course.”


	4. Chapter 3

Bee hoped what she was wearing was okay. She almost wanted to cancel when Morgan told her to meet him at the corner of Spadina and King Street West, where they would walk to the place together. King West was swanky. There were a lot of trendy shops and restaurants, and a steady flow of cool bars kept popping up all the time. It was beyond Bee’s comfort zone. She loved walking down there, and she loved the old architecture and the facades of the buildings…but to actually go in to one of them? No. Those types of places weren’t meant for her.

But she didn’t cancel. She didn’t cancel because Morgan only told her about an hour before where to meet him, and it would have been exceptionally rude. She didn’t cancel because, yet again, Angie – still in Kingston – threatened to come back to Toronto and force her to go.

She didn’t cancel because she really wanted to see Morgan.

As she approached the intersection, Bee could see Morgan leaning against the side of a building, looking down at his phone. She had walked from her place all the way down Spadina, and she thanked God there was a cool breeze out or else she probably would have been a sweating mess. As if on cue, he looked up from his phone to see her walking, and gave her a little wave, pushing himself off the wall and shoving his phone into his pocket.

He pulled her in for a quick hug when she was close enough, his hands lingering a bit on her hips. “You look great,” he looked her in the eye as she said it.

She knew her pants were tugging on her hips. And she knew her top was a bit too big and her shoes were old and her bag had seen better days but apparently that didn’t matter. She smiled at the compliment. He was wearing a pair of grey slacks, a short-sleeve button down, and his ever-present baseball cap. The sight of his biceps made her knees weak. “Ready to go? Where’s the restaurant?” she asked.

“Have you ever been to Cibo?”

She gulped. Cibo was one of the best wine bars in the city. “Nope.”

His hand slipped quickly from her hip to hold her hand, and she could have sworn her heart fluttered at the contact. _God_, he had to know what he was doing. “Then let’s go. You’re gonna love it.”

They arrived at the restaurant still hand in hand. As it was a Friday evening, it was packed with people. There were diners everywhere, and there was a group of people waiting inside as well as a line up outside the doors. It was _busy_. As Bee slowed down to entire the end of the line, Morgan tugged her inside. She looked around to make sure nobody was giving them a dirty look. ‘_We aren’t cutting’_ she wanted to tell everyone. _‘I have no idea what he’s doing, but we’re not cutting!’_

“It’s currently a 45 minute wait for a table,” the beautiful blonde hostess said to Morgan and Bee as they approached her – no hello, no formalities, just the time. “We can write down your name if you’d like.”

“That won’t be necessary. We have reservations,” Morgan said. “Und --”

“Cibo doesn’t take reservations on Friday nights,” she interrupted.

Morgan gave her a look for being rude. “Well someone here took my booking. It’s under the name Morgan.”

“Take a seat,” she nodded towards the benches where some people were waiting.

“But we have --”

“Morgan, it’s okay,” Bee felt the need to intervene. She shook his hand, which was still holding on to hers, to get his attention. “It’s okay. We can wait for a bit, and if it’s too long we can just find somewhere else.”

After twenty minutes of waiting, Morgan was becoming increasingly impatient. He probably would have approached the hostess again, but Bee kept telling him not to say anything, that it’s okay, that they’d eventually get a table. He wasn’t so sure. He needed this night to go well, and right now, it was a disaster. When she went to the washroom, he finally took his chance.

He approached the hostess once more, trying to remain calm. “Excuse me…we have reservations. We shouldn’t be waiting this long for a table.”

“It’s Friday night, sir. Cibo gets busy. And like I said, we don’t take reservations on Fridays.”

He took a quick look around to make sure Bee wasn’t coming back from the washroom. He absolutely _hated_ doing this, but he knew he needed to in order to salvage the night. “Listen, Ben usually works Friday nights, right? Tell him Morgan Rielly is here.”

He could see the girl roll her eyes. “Morgan O’Reilly?”

“No no, just Rielly. Mor-_gan_ Rie-_lly_,” he said slower.

He watched as she picked up the receiver, pressed a button, and waited for someone to answer on the other end. She barely batted an eyelash when she finally said, “Hey Ben – I’m supposed to tell you _Morgan Rielly_ has been here for twenty minutes.” Her tone was very sarcastic and dry. Something was clearly said because she straightened up her back and hung up the phone. “He’s on his way out,” she said quickly.

“Great, thank you.”

As if on cue, he watched as Bee exited the washroom and Ben – the manager that usually handled the boys whenever they wanted to discreetly come in – whip around the bend and start walking towards the front reception. When Bee noticed Morgan still at the front, she pursed her lips slightly. “Still no table?”

“It’s coming,” Morgan nodded his head towards Ben, making Bee turn around.

“Mo! How the fuck are you?” Ben’s voice bellowed over the mass of people congregated in the restaurant. He and Morgan shook hands and bumped chests before he continued. “You’re back in town early! You got Matts with you?”

“No no. It’s Briony’s first time at Cibo,” Morgan said, placing his hand on the small of her back.

“Let me bring you to your usual right away,” Ben said. “Apologies about the wait.”

Morgan’s hand slipped to hold Bee’s as they made their way through the restaurant until Ben brought them to a booth at near the back corner. They sat down across from each other and were promptly handed the food and wine menus before Ben told them their server would be there shortly. He patted Mo on the back before leaving. Bee wondered if he came here a lot.

“Do you know what any of this means?” Bee mused as she looked through the wine menu. She wasn’t a complete idiot – she obviously knew there were different types of wines, and they came from different regions around the world, but she could never taste the difference between a cabernet sauvignon, a merlot, a chardonnay, or anything else that was put in front of her. People who did kind of freaked her out, only because it meant they had so much time on their hands that they could actually think about this sort of stuff. _Ah yes, I can smell the oak._ _The taste of the cranberry is very pert._ Like, no you can’t. All wine tasted the same to her. It was all good.

“Yeah, of course,” Morgan said, giving her a weird look. “I wouldn’t bring you here if I didn’t.”

“So you can order for me, then?”

“Do you trust me?” he smirked.

It was a loaded question, sure, and there was a definite double entendre in the question and the way that he asked it (at least Bee thought so). She knew everything was still new, and fresh, and she knew that it had only been a small amount of time since meeting him, but Morgan had never given her any reason _not_ to trust him. Was it perhaps a bit foolish on her part to trust him? Maybe. But right now, she did. And she didn’t feel queasy about it.

Wait – they were talking about wine, right?

“I trust you,” she said, smiling back at him. “I know nothing about wine.”

“You wanna get something to munch on?”

Bee hesitated. She was already going to be forking out what looked like $15 for the cheapest, smallest amount of wine. She never factored in that there was going to be food in this. Morgan only said drinks. “It’s okay,” she shook her head.

“Are you sure?”

She sighed. “I um…I don’t mean to sound cheap but I can’t afford to eat out right now, so I’m gonna have to pass. You can get something though. I don’t mind.”

“Wait, what do you mean you can’t you afford it right now?”

She cringed. “Because I’m a starving Master’s student, Morgan.”

“Briony.”

She couldn’t meet his eye, _especially_ after her name rolled off his lips like that. How could she? Here was a guy who was taking her out on a date to an expensive wine bar and here she was, getting by on the littlest amounts. “Listen, I’m basically living off of multiple scholarships right now. I don’t exactly have the funds to eat out at fancy places like this,” she explained.

Morgan looked at her as if she had three heads. “Do you honestly think I would bring you to a place like this, on a date, knowing you’re a university student that’s been supporting yourself for years, and not pick up the tab?”

Bee felt tears lining her eyes for some reason. “It’s not…it’s not about that,” she said, shaking her head, trying her hardest not to let her voice crack. “It’s…”

“Briony, come on. Why are you so nervous?”

He just had to use her full name again. _Had_ to. “I’m not used to this.”

“You --”

“I hardly ever go out. Because I can’t afford it. And when I do go out, it’s definitely not to places like this. We’re talking five dollar pitchers at the Green Room, not bottles of wine from Italy or Napa Valley.”

“Then --”

“And for that matter, I like to cook. It’s like…I don’t know, my hobby. I try to prep and make everything at home because it’s cheaper. That way I’m not tempted to spend my money on food. I know not a lot of people do that anymore but it’s how I survived growing up so I’m just used to it.”

“Then ignore everything else. Ignore everything around you. It’s just me.” There was a moment of silence as Bee considered the words, and Morgan took the opportunity to reach across the table and grab her hand, clasping it tenderly. “It’s just me, Briony.”

She nodded her head. She knew that. And he made it so simple. There didn’t have to be all the bells and whistles. She could ignore it. For now, it was just Bee and Morgan. “Do you mind letting me know about the wine a bit, then?”

He obliged readily. For someone who worked in the sports industry, he sure knew a lot about wine, and he definitely knew what he liked. The regions in Italy, the regions in France, his preferences which tended towards wines from Napa Valley – Bee clearly needed to re-evaluate what type of people liked wine and how much time Morgan had readily available to him. She absorbed the information as much as possible, but she knew she would forget most of it after they left.

Soon enough, a professionally dressed waitress approached their table to take their order. “What would you two like?”

“We’re gonna get the cabernet sauvignon…Pine Ridge from Napa Valley,” Morgan told the waitress. Bee quickly scanned the menu to see the bottle was a whopping $120. “And we’ll get the carpaccio, the bruschetta, the fromaggi platter, and some bread please.” Bee’s eyes scanned the menu again, quickly adding up the prices of the platters. She gulped. “Thank you.”

All they did was talk. They talked and talked and talked, and when the wine came out, and Bee took her first sip, it was _good_, and so she drank and they talked some more, and when the food came out, she ate some cheeses, and it was _really_ good, and so she ate and they talked some more, and when the carpaccio and the bread came she paired all three together and it was _heavenly_, and so she enjoyed the food and wine and they talked even more. Neither of them could stop talking. Morgan revealed more about himself – how he grew up in West Vancouver, how he had an older brother, how his dad owned a lumber company and his mom owned a medical research company. How happy his childhood was. How he’d get up early to play hockey with his dad. How he played at the country club (yes…a damn country club) growing up. Bee didn’t think she’d ever met someone who was actually a member of a country club. She couldn’t help but wonder what that was like.

By the end of the night Bee was sure she had half a bottle of wine flowing through her veins. She was by no means drunk, but she was definitely warm and fuzzy. Definitely happy. So when Morgan paid the bill and his hands wandered to her hips and the small of her back again as they walked out of the restaurant, she didn’t mind. Actually, she wanted them to stay there. And when he suggested he walk her home – the whole 45-minute walk home back up to the Annex, she could only nod her head and slip her hand into his as they walked up Spadina.

He mentioned how he was going back to Vancouver for two weeks. It was to see his parents, he said. He hadn’t seen them in a while. And his brother, of course. And his beautiful golden lab, Maggie, his girl, that took up a majority of the camera roll on his phone. Bee never had any pets growing up – they obviously couldn’t afford it. But Bee promised herself that the second she could have enough disposable income she would get a pet. Adopt a cat from the Humane Society or something.

As they finally hit Bloor Street, Bee began to get nervous. She started asking him if he’d ever been walking in the Annex (he had not) and if he’d ever want to (he did). She noticed he slowed down his walking, and truth be told, she did too. But the realization only made her more nervous. And when she got nervous, she didn’t shut up. It was a curse. Just like her rambling about books, she was now rambling about the Annex. She honestly couldn’t stop.

“We’re coming up on mine now,” she said, nodding her head towards the house where her apartment was.

It was a massive house – one of the traditional Annex mansions that lined the streets and that people in Toronto paid millions upon millions for – but it looked older than some of the others in the neighbourhood that had been lovingly restored. It wasn’t dilapidated by any means, but Morgan could tell that not a lot of care had gone in to maintaining the place – a shame, really, since these houses were relics of a bygone era. They didn’t build houses like this anymore.

Morgan tried to imagine Bee living here. He tried to imagine her coming home from classes everyday, or her leaving with reusable grocery bags to do her weekly shop. He tried to imagine her apartment. Did she have a desk against the big bay window? Was she on the main or second floor? Was there still an original, working fireplace? Did she use it? But the more he tried to think, the more his thoughts were drowned out by her rambling voice. What was she talking about? At this point, he had no clue, but she was being so cute and he knew she did this all the time when she got nervous and, well, he was nervous too, because all he had wanted to do when he saw her at the beginning of their date was kiss her.

She walked him through the gate and on to the front porch, but she wouldn’t quiet down. “There’s, like, five apartments in here,” she said, looking up at the house. “On the main floor there’s mine and the one in the back – it’s the same on the second floor obviously – and then there’s a small apartment on the third floor too. The basement just has some storage rooms – laundry too, obviously – and, like, the furnace room…nothing special,” she babbled.

He leaned in, needing her to stay silent for just a moment so he could collect his thoughts. “Briony?” he mumbled.

“Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you now?”

“Oh!” She loved that he asked permission, but she was stupid. She was so, so stupid. “Of course.”

Morgan kissed Bee the way she had always wanted to be kissed: soft at first, with a gentleness that could deceive you, but with a streak desire that exuded like a flame. As she was a willing participant and readily reciprocating, he continued to kiss her, his hands wandering to her waist and down her hips, settling on the small of her back before pulling her body closer to his.

It turned into a full-blown make-out session before Bee had to stop for air. Morgan’s eyes remained closed as she tried to catch her breath.

It was late. He had a plane to catch tomorrow morning to go home.

“Have fun in Vancouver,” she whispered, moving to unlock the front door.

Morgan’s eyes shot open. “What?”

“Goodnight,” she smiled.

“Nonononono,” he pulled her back against him, giving her another kiss. She reciprocated again, but pulled away quicker than Morgan liked.

“You have an early flight tomorrow.”

“I don’t care.”

“Goodnight,” she smiled, pushing the door in.

“Briony.”

“Goodnight.”

“_Briony!_”

As she shut the door, he chuckled to himself. This was going to be a long trip back to Vancouver.


	5. Chapter 4

Morgan was back. Bee told him he could come to her apartment for dinner. She was going to cook fish tacos. It was an offer he couldn’t refuse.

Morgan’s two weeks in Vancouver were rejuvenating. Though he’d been back during most of the summer, he had voluntarily decided to come back to Toronto intermittently to get some extra training with his skating and defense coach before training camp and pre-season started. Being back in Vancouver always made him feel relaxed, tranquil, peaceful. Being back in Toronto always made him feel diligent, industrious, energetic. Two different vibes, but he loved them both equally.

And then he met Briony.

Hockey had always taken up so much of Morgan’s time. Even in the summers, he was constantly training so he could come back better than the year before; make more of an impact in a game he knew he could master. Almost all he thought about was hockey. Almost all he did was in relation to hockey. Almost all he talked about was hockey.

And then he met Briony.

A girl that liked to talk about books. A girl that liked to talk about Toronto. A girl that liked to talk about her Master’s. A girl that liked to talk about anything else besides hockey.

Was he guilty that he hadn’t told her about his job yet – or that she hadn’t figured it out? Partly. But it was a nice break. So many people in the city – so many _girls_ – would approach him, cozy up to him, bat their eyelashes and bite their lips at him _because_ he was Morgan Rielly. It was exhausting. While some of his teammates revelled in the attention, soaking up every risqué DM, every eyelash bat, and every bite of the lip, he cursed it. Not to say that he didn’t partake in the occasional eyelash bat, bite of the lip, or risqué DM – he was by no means a saint. But for the most part, he just wanted to be left alone. His mother had always commented on how much he liked to be alone. Even his teammates always commented on it.

He wasn’t that person. It wasn’t his thing.

Then that damn book by Friedman happened. Morgan always loved to read and his friend Jake would always tease him about how much he read on team flights or on the team bus, but he would always shrug it off. But it was somehow Friedman that led him to somebody playing a prank on a girl and her accusing him of doing it. And she didn’t know who he was. He wasn’t _Morgan Rielly_. He was just Morgan Rielly.

Why wouldn’t he want that?

He knew he would have to tell her sooner or later. He knew he could only keep the charade up for so long. To be quite honest, he was surprised his supposed anonymity lasted this long. He was lucky he didn’t get recognized in the restaurant in the first place, and even luckier that during the night at Cibo, Briony didn’t hear him say his name out loud to the hostess or hear Ben refer to Auston Matthews. He was walking on eggshells and he knew it – but he also knew eggshells didn’t hurt as much as coal and he could walk on them some more.

And now he was finally, _finally_ back in Toronto. The only other time he’d ever been this excited to be back in the city was for the start of training camp every season. Briony had left him hanging before he left, having that make out session on her porch and then denying him saying he had a “flight to catch”. _Please_. He would have stayed up until the flight if it meant spending time with her.

As he approached the old Annex house, he was overcome with a sense of urgency to see her. He carried the groceries he promised he’d buy in both hands. He remembered two weeks ago when he was here, on the same tree-lined street, except he wasn’t able to see its true beauty since it was night. In the day time it was even more beautiful, the sun poking through the leaves of the trees, the faint sound of children playing in backyards, the hum of the cars on Bloor Street providing the perfect background music. He could see why she liked the Annex so much, despite describing her own place as tiny and cramped.

He rang the buzzer like she asked him to, for Apartment 1. He waited patiently for a response, watching the buzzer. Soon, he heard the front door unlock and Briony’s head poke through. “Hey,” she smiled immediately, giddy like a little kid who just found their parents’ candy stash. “Come in.”

He walked into the foyer, painted an off-white, which had two doors – one leading to her apartment, he assumed, and one leading to the other that took up the remainder of the main floor. There was also the giant staircase, definitely kept from the original house, but it had been painted over. “How’ve you been?” he asked.

“I’ve been good. How was Vancouver?”

“Marvellous,” he exaggerated, walking towards the door. “Spent a majority of my time with Maggie, so, you know, that’s the best.”

When Morgan stepped foot into Bee’s tiny, cramped apartment, he smiled at what he was presented with. It _was_ small – Bee wasn’t lying – but it felt immediately, completely, like a home. The furnishings were what he expected of any “starving Master’s student” as she referred to herself: a small two-seater couch against a wall; a storage unit opposite the couch presumably being used as a TV stand although there was no TV; a basic white L-shaped kitchen in a corner with butcher-block counters; tattered and worn hardwood floors, definitely original; one of those giant cubed shelving units from Ikea separating her bed from the rest of the space; a big bay window looking out into the leafy, tree-lined street. He loved it. He immediately loved it.

“Sorry it’s so small…” she mumbled as he slipped off his shoes.

“This is great,” he said, still taking in the room. “This is so great.”

“You don’t have to be nice,” she said. With two steps, he was in her kitchen and setting the bags onto the countertop. “It’s tiny. And basic. And to be honest, cold most of the time.”

“I love it. So much more character than the condos downtown,” Morgan said. He couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “Seriously…I love it.”

Bee couldn’t bear to see the smirk on his face any longer. He was too cute and too earnest about loving her small, antiquated Annex apartment that she turned her head back to the groceries and focused on the spring onions poking out so she wouldn’t break out into a blush. “So are we gonna make these tacos or what?”

“Before we begin, there’s one thing I need to do.”

“Washroom? It’s right over --”

“No,” he interrupted her. He turned to her and held her face in his hands before leaning down to kiss her. It wasn’t a small kiss either – no no – it was the same type of kiss they left off with two weeks ago. When her hands rested on his arms, he moved his hands to her waist, slipping them underneath her shirt. The touch made her press her body against his, and he used the opportunity to back her up against counter. They kissed for a while, until Morgan deemed necessary, because Bee didn’t seem to want to stop anytime soon. When he broke the kiss, Bee’s eyes stared back at him, his body still looming over hers.

“What was that for?” she asked, breathless.

“For leaving me hanging two weeks ago,” he said, taking his hands off her waist and backing away from her.

She bit her lip. The absence of his touch was cold. “Touché,” she said, watching as he turned away from her with a smile on his face before he started to unpack the bags. She turned away and bit her lip. He had some nerve doing that to her. “You wanna put on some music?” she asked, trying to forget about it. If she kept thinking about it she wouldn’t be able to last the night.

“Music?”

“I can’t cook without music.”

Morgan giggled. “Your neighbours must think you’re a delight.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s not like I blast Metallica.”

“What are you blasting then?”

Bee was proud of her taste in music. If she could fall back on anything, or when she was stressed and thought ‘_What the fuck do I even have going for me right now?’_, the answer was always her good music taste. She didn’t care what others thought. It was one of the only things she had growing up, and it was hers to curate and hers alone. “Have you ever heard of Born Ruffians?”

He snorted. He couldn’t believe this was happening. “Born Ruffians are one of my favourite bands,” he revealed. He’d even given them seats to a few games last season. Same books. Same music. What the hell was next?

“Seriously?” she was shocked. She turned away from him because she was blushing again. “Alright. Born Ruffians it is then.”

Morgan watched as she started prepping the cutting board, chopping knife, and bowl. She maneuvered around the kitchen with such certainty Morgan was intimidated to interfere. “What am I supposed to do here, sweetheart?”

She looked over her shoulder, eyebrows raised mischievously. “Just sit there and look pretty, darling.”

Morgan laughed. “No, seriously. What do you want me to do? I’m not the best cook but I can help…I don’t know, chop an onion or something.”

“Just sit back and relax…it’s okay,” she reiterated. “I’m being serious. Crack open the bottle of wine if you want to and pour us a glass. I love cooking. It’s my hobby. But I don’t want anybody else in my kitchen bothering me while I cook.”

Morgan couldn’t help but smile. She dug into her pocket and thrust her phone in his direction, not looking at him. “Here. Music. Go wild.”

When all was said and done, Bee placed a plate of three fish tacos in front of Morgan, who had kindly set the table and was the perfect DJ to accompany her cooking. By the time they actually sat down at her small coffee table to eat, they were half a bottle of wine in. “There’s more if you want it. I’ll lend you some Tupperware to bring home too. Don’t be shy,” she said, crossing her legs to sit down.

Morgan took his first bite out of the fish tacos and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. “Holy fuck,” he said, savouring the taste in his mouth. He could see Bee had a proud smile on her face. “What the…where…how did you learn how to cook this well?”

“I don’t know. Trial and error, I guess” she shrugged her shoulders.

“Fuck, I wish my errors turned out this good,” he mused. “Usually it’s burned chicken or over boiled pasta.”

Bee snorted. “How the hell do you over boil pasta?”

“Listen,” Morgan said curtly, only causing Bee to giggle more. “Don’t trash my cooking skills.”

“You just trashed them yourself!”

Morgan thought about it. Maybe the wine was already getting to him. “Whatever, Briony. You still didn’t answer the question. How did you learn how to cook this well?”

He watched as she took a sip of her wine. “Like I said, trial and error. I’ve been cooking since I was ten. There have been a lot of mistakes over these last thirteen years. But I learn from my mistakes.”

“You’ve been cooking since you were _what_?” Morgan asked. “I wasn’t even allowed near a stove…_why_?”

“Alcoholic mother, Morgan.”

He sobered up really quickly when those words left her mouth. They hung in the air, but it wasn’t awkward. Bee said them so casually, like her situation was normal – like it was normal a ten year old had to learn how to use a stove to feed herself and her mother. “Briony…”

“Please don’t say anything dumb like ‘I’m sorry’. It’s not your fault my mother was an alcoholic. I dealt with it. I became self-sufficient and stronger because of it,” she said.

“I wasn’t.”

“Oh…okay, sorry,” she blushed. “I just…that’s all I’ve ever heard when someone’s found out. It gets…I don’t know…_tiring_.”

Morgan shook his head. “I don’t feel sorry for you. We’ve already established I think you’re a badass because you were able to accomplish all this,” he motioned to the apartment around him and the food in front of him, “all on your own. I was uh…I was going to ask you a question. Since we’re on the topic…sort of.”

“Oh. Of course.”

“It’s a bit…personal,” he warned.

“That’s okay.”

“When we went out to Cibo you mentioned your scholarships. How…how many do you have?”

Bee smiled. “I’m on four major ones. I have the Richard Xi Grant from Rotman that covers $35,000 worth of my tuition, and a Rotman Academic Scholarship worth $15,000 that covers the rest of tuition. There are two other grants that U of T offers that basically cover my living expenses – they’re $12,000 each. One and a bit goes to paying my rent, the rest of the other pays for food, my Presto card, and any other expenses I might have, like my cell phone bill.”

“So you…”

“So I get by on just over twenty grand a year, but fourteen of that is rent…so uh, around six grand,” she knew his mind was calculating the numbers. The wine was making it difficult, she figured. “My tuition is fifty grand, but luckily that’s paid for. There’s also what I earn from being a TA, but because I have the grants, most of that goes directly into my savings, thankfully.”

She knew from the way he hesitated he wanted to ask how much that was. She didn’t mind sharing with him, because she was being open and honest, and he had been open and honest about the fact that he grew up in West Vancouver with membership at a country club. She was starting to learn that they grew up in very different worlds. Country clubs, wine bars, and private schools versus public housing, food pantries, and counting pennies.

“Thanks for opening up to me, Bee,” he said, unable to find any other words to say. He knew he sounded stupid but it was the only thing he could think of. He was wearing an $8000 Rolex watch on his wrist and she was surviving on $6000 for an entire year. The harsh reality was a quick slap in the face.

“Did you ever end up finishing Friedman?” she asked suddenly.

“Yeah. I finished it on the plane ride to Vancouver, actually,” he said, grateful for the change in subject. “I didn’t like it as much as I thought I would. I mean it was good, but like…I don’t know. I was expecting more.”

“Me too,” she nodded her head, taking another bite into a taco. “The only chapter that stuck out was the one I mentioned when we first met. Everything else was just…blah.”

“I’ve moved on, too. Well, trying to. My mom recommended this book that is very much similar to Friedman, but I don’t know if I want to read it.”

“You should real Ali Smith,” Bee suggested, taking a small sip of wine. “She’s like…my favourite author right now. Well, she has been for _years_.”

“Why?”

“She’s just so good!” Bee smiled. “Just…her narrative and her prose are phenomenal. She is the absolute _master_ of the dual narrative and I just wish someone would give her the damn Pulitzer and Nobel already. She beyond deserves it. You read fiction, right?”

“I mean, I _can_.”

“She is just…_ugh,_ she is so good. I know my brain is more analytical and into numbers but I think I forced it to be that way. If I could have any wish granted it’s to be able to write like her. She’s working on a series right now – this sort of post-Brexit set of novels named after the seasons – and I mean she’s only released two, Autumn and Winter, but _my God_ the way that she’s writing and the way she’s tying storylines together, the way her words just punch you in the gut…I…_UGH!_” she exclaimed. Morgan laughed at her outburst. “You need to stop me now or else I won’t shut up about her. Seriously.”

“You seem to really like her,” he commented sarcastically.

“Oh come on! There has to be a writer that you love as much as that?”

Morgan shrugged his shoulders. He loved reading, and his teammates made fun of him for it, but he didn’t really have a favourite author. He didn’t really admire an author’s entire body of work. Perhaps he didn’t read _enough_ to be able to do that. “Not really.”

“Okay, well, after dinner I can show you what I have. You can borrow something…you know, if you want,” she added nervously.

Morgan looked at her and said nothing. He could only smile.

The rest of dinner was spent with Morgan making googly-eyes at Bee. He couldn’t help it. Whatever they talked about had him on his knees begging for her to keep speaking and he had to keep pinching himself for how lucky he was that this girl was sitting across from him, giving him the time of day. Cooking him food. Willing to lend him a book.

He insisted on washing the dishes as she packed half of the leftovers into a container for him. When she was done, she leaned against her countertop, finishing her glass of wine. She watched as he placed the last plate on the drying rack before cleaning up the sink and washing his hands. He turned to her when he was done, an undecipherable look on his face.

She was getting nervous again. She couldn’t believe he could make her feel this way. “I uh…there’s a small dessert in the fridge,” she said, her voice barely audible.

“No,” Morgan said plainly, shaking his head. Taking his time, he sauntered over to her, standing right in front of her, his body looming over hers.

She looked up at him, unable to breath. “Hi.”

When he kissed her, he tried to take his time. He tried to make it last. But the attempt was futile, because the second he felt her body pressed against his, he was a goner. His kisses became more frantic, more passionate. He couldn’t help himself. His hands slipped underneath her shirt again and he was shocked when she tugged at the belt loops of his pants.

“Let’s go,” she whispered hurriedly, breaking away from him and taking his hand, pulling him towards her bed.


	6. Chapter 5

Morgan was hardly ever anxious. He was usually cool, calm, and collected about most things, even on the ice. Bad or missed calls by the referees,

He was officially nervous.

It all started when Auston Matthews came over to his place. Auston was in town for a few charity events he agreed to do, and on an off-day in-between, he went over to Morgan’s house to play video games and catch up. Though they had spoken regularly, they had barely seen each other since the end of the season – just the occasional FaceTime. It was good to be together again; good to be playing video games and shooting the shit.

Then Auston got hungry and, well, everything went downhill.

_“Dude, I’m starving,” Auston said, putting down his controller on the coffee table in front of him and springing up from his seat on the couch. “You got anything in the fridge?”_

_“There’s some chips in the top right cupboard,” Morgan said, continuing to play the game. He always had chips on hand. It was his trademark._

_“Any beers?”_

_“Uh…” Morgan honestly couldn’t remember, but at the same time, he was extremely close to getting his targeted kill count so he wasn’t exactly paying the most attention. “I can’t remember. Just fuckin’ check. Go wild.”_

_Morgan heard the crinkle of the chip bag and the fridge open, Austin moving some stuff around. “Um, excuse me,” Auston said. “What the fuck is going on here?”_

_“What the fuck are you talking about?”_

_“Since when the fuck do you use Tupperware?” Auston questioned, turning to look at Morgan. “You never use your Tupperware.”_

_“Matts, what the fuck?” Morgan digressed, pausing the game to look at his friend. In Auston’s hand was the Tupperware Bee gave to Morgan for the leftovers of the fish tacos. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. “I use Tupperware.”_

_“No you don’t,” Auston said, looking directly at him. “You made me buy it with you, and now we both never use it. Why are you…” his thoughts trailed off as he connected dots in his head. His eyes bulged out of his head when he came to his realization, his mouth even dropping a bit. “Bro.”_

_“What?”_

_“Who is she?”_

_Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. “What are you talking about?”_

_“Who’s the girl?”_

_“There’s no girl, Matts,” Morgan gulped. _

_“Bullshit!” Auston yelled. “You never use the Tupperware we bought, and now all of the sudden it’s being used in your fr…THIS ISN’T EVEN OUR TUPPERWARE!” he screamed even louder, feeling completely betrayed. “Ours has red lids and this one is BLUE! Is this her Tupperware?! Oh my GOD!”_

_“Matts, calm the fuck down, for fuck sakes!”_

_“NO! I can’t calm down! Do you know what stage in a relationship you have to be to bring someone else’s Tupperware home with you?!”_

_“Seriously, Matts, you’re gonna have a hernia over Tupperware.”_

_“Stop deflecting! Who is she? What’s her name? Why didn’t you tell me about her?!”_

_“Matts, please,” Morgan rolled his eyes, trying to brush him off. _

_“Nah nah nah nah, I will shut this game off if I have to. Either you tell me what the fuck is going on or I’m stealing your phone when you nap and finding it out for myself.”_

_Morgan looked Auston dead in the eye. He knew Auston wasn’t bluffing. Auston would go so far as to spike Morgan’s drink in order to get to the bottom of this is if he didn’t fess up. “We met at a restaurant,” he practically mumbled._

_Morgan couldn’t describe what Auston did next. It was a sort of fist-pump into the air, but he was still holding on to the Tupperware container, so it looked like he was celebrating the Tupperware. He practically threw it back into the fridge and slammed the door before running and plopping himself back onto the couch, forgetting the chips altogether. Morgan rolled his eyes. “You are honestly the fucking worst, Matts.”_

_“When am I gonna meet her?”_

_“Never if you keep this up,” Morgan answered quickly. _

Auston convinced Morgan to meet Briony. Morgan prayed to every god imaginable that Auston wouldn’t embarrass him, or more important, embarrass Briony. Later, when Morgan met up with Freddie, he _begged_ Freddie to join them. Freddie would provide some decorum at least. It wouldn’t turn into a complete shit show.

Freddie made a point in asking why, after only a month, Morgan didn’t put up more of a fight in denying Auston in meeting Briony. Freddie understood how private Morgan was. He understood how much Morgan liked his privacy, despite being a Toronto Maple Leaf. He knew how much Morgan liked to be alone. Everybody on the team commented on it. Babcock commented on it. The team doctors and physiotherapists commented on it. Even the equipment guys commented on it. And now Morgan had agreed to let Briony meet Auston, the most recognizable Leaf on the team…when he could have just said no?

_‘But I like her’_ Morgan had answered. _‘I mean, she’s going to have to meet everyone eventually, right? Especially if this becomes serious.’_

_‘Usually people are honest and tell the other what they and their friends actually do for a living before getting a girl to meet them’_ Freddie called him out. Morgan couldn’t win because he knew Freddie was right. But he made Freddie promise he wouldn’t say anything to Bee. He agreed reluctantly, only because Morgan was a really good friend.

Were they moving too fast? Morgan knew people who moved faster…much faster. But were _they_? It was a legitimate question. It was just over a month since they had first met. They’d slept together once after a few dates. He hadn’t met Angie, Bee’s “person…you know, like in Grey’s Anatomy? She’s my _person_” because she was currently in Kingston with her boyfriend Mason. This would obviously be the first night she would be meeting any of Morgan’s friends. He thought the pace was fine.

Okay, maybe he rationalized it because he really liked her.

*

Bee looked at herself in the mirror once again, the luxurious bathroom of the Four Seasons Hotel in Toronto providing good enough lightning that, for a second, she thought she looked half-decent. She had on her work clothes – a pair of cropped, tailored pants, a flowy heart printed top, flats instead of her usual Tom’s shoes – and she couldn’t help but feel a little bit self-conscious about it all. When Morgan said he had friends visiting in the city and they wanted to meet her, she readily agreed, thinking it would be something small at his place. When he later told her they were meeting up at dbar at the Four Seasons Hotel in Yorkville…well, that’s when the nerves started to hit.

She had agreed to meet Morgan and his friends at dbar, since they were all apparently coming from work and she was grading the last of the exams in the solitude of her apartment. The fact that she was even going out during Labour Day Weekend was new for her. She knew everybody in the city would be out tonight. She didn’t like to go out on these types of nights.

Angie would always make fun of Bee for how much she liked being alone. Bee guessed it was a quirk she had, something she developed while growing up. When Bee was old enough to realize that her mother was an alcoholic, she would escape to her room (when she had her own room) and do anything to distract herself, sometimes even repeatedly doing her homework over and over again so she wouldn’t have to face her mother. When she was old enough to leave the house, she would – she’d take a walk around the neighbourhood or sit aimlessly in the local park while her mom binged alone or with “friends”, preferring to be alone rather than witness her mother succumb to the alcohol.

It really solidified itself when she finally turned 16, when she won legal emancipation from her mother. If she was going to do this – _life_ – all on her own, then she needed to be focused, with no distractions. And if she was going to make it, she needed to work hard. And work hard was what she did. Alone. Nobody to support her, nobody to cheer her on, nobody to guide her. She did it all by herself. Alone.

Now Bee had to begin reconciling the fact that she also liked being with Morgan. That she was willing to go out in order to be with him; that she was willing to go to places that made her slightly uncomfortable if it meant she could have fun with him. It was a weird sensation, walking both sides of the feeling of wanting to be alone but wanting to be with someone else. She didn’t know how to justify it – all she knew was that she would continue to.

When she exited the washroom of the Four Seasons and walked around the building to wait in the lobby of the bar, she checked her phone again to see if Morgan had texted her. He hadn’t. She settled into the plush bench near the hostess, pretending to be on her phone. She wasn’t going to dare approach her. The hostess would probably laugh her out of the entire Yorkville area.

“Excuse me, are you Briony?”

Bee’s body stiffened as she looked up from her phone slowly. She saw a man – a very ginger, very tall, very _big_ man – staring down at her, a soft smile on his face. He was dressed smartly: a pressed pair of slacks with desert boots, an unbuttoned collared shirt, a stylish sport jacket that fit impeccably. He was completely colour co-ordinated. Who was this man and how did he know her name? “Uh…yes?” she squeaked out, still trying to take all of him in.

“I’m Frederik. I’m one of Morgan’s friends.”

“Oh!” she exclaimed, jolting up from her seat immediately. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Morgan didn’t tell me your names or what you look like and I had no idea who I would have to look for and --”

“It’s okay,” he laughed, extending his hand for her to shake. His hands were _massive_. They were like mittens. She was pretty sure they could wrap around her entire head. She was also pretty sure he had a least a foot on her height wise. Where the fuck did this guy come from? “Morgan and Auston will be here soon. Auston said they just gave Morgan’s car to the valet.”

“So Auston is the other guy’s name?” Bee clarified. Frederik nodded his head. “And you guys all work together, right? That’s how you know each other.”

“Exactly.”

“How long have you worked in the sports industry?” Bee asked, trying to make small talk.

“The sports industry?” Frederik chuckled slightly. “I’ve only been here since 2016.” He nodded his head to motion for Bee to look behind her, and when she did, she saw Morgan making his way through the door, his typical slacks and button down t-shirt on. She was starting to feel overdressed. His companion, who she could only assume was ‘Auston’ walked in with a beanie and what could only be described as extremely-expensive-and-tailored-but-still track pants. _Track pants_. Bee felt like she was in the twilight zone. Did Auston not know where he was going? Were they going to be denied entry now?

Morgan made a beeline to her, enveloping her in a hug. Auston looked on with a bemused look on his face. “So you’re Bee,” he said once she had turned towards him.

He, too, had at least a foot of height on her. She wondered if they planted themselves in manure every night to grow. She’d heard that saying once and thought it was the most ridiculous thing ever, but seeing the sizes of Frederik and Auston – now she wasn’t so sure. “I’m Bee,” she nodded her head. “Frederik tells me your name is Auston.”

“So it is,” he smiled, shaking her hand. “Morgan’s told me so much about you.”

Bee stiffened at the words. “Good things, I hope.”

“He’s mentioned how good your fish tacos were once or twice,” Auston winked at Morgan, who looked like he was going to stab Auston right then and there. “Good on you for getting this guy to go out, by the way. Usually he just likes to be alone. Have you ever been to dbar before?”

“No.”

“You’re in for a treat, Bee. It’s one of the best bars in the city.”

As they made their way towards the hostess Bee earlier tried to ignore as much as possible, she watched as Morgan tried to discreetly elbow Auston and mouth to him _‘Behave’_. “Table for four please, under Auston Matthews.”

“Of course,” the woman smiled, clicking a few times on her computer screen. “Welcome back to Toronto, Mr. Matthews,” she nodded, then turning her attention to Morgan and Frederik. “Mr. Rielly. Mr. Andersen. Did you all have a good summer?”

Bee gulped. What was going on? How did she know who Auston was automatically? How did she know Morgan? Frederik? Did they really come here _that_ often? Could they really _afford_ to come here that often? What the hell did she get herself into?

“The best, doll,” Auston smiled, the first to follow her into the restaurant.

As they walked in, Bee couldn’t help but notice the stares

They were seated much like she and Morgan were at Cibo – in a booth in a back corner where nobody could really see them unless they specifically walked that way through the restaurant. Morgan sat on the same side as her in the booth, immediately grabbing her hand underneath the table and caressing it tenderly. Frederik and Auston shuffled into the other side. The waiter that attended to them asked if they all wanted their usual, which they all did, which made it awkward for Bee because she was still trying to get over how fucking _expensive_ the cocktails were so she had to choose on a whim.

“So Morgan tells me you’re getting your Master’s,” Frederik said in his soothing voice, and it was only then that Bee realized he had an accent. “Where are you studying?”

“I’m at U of T. I’m getting my Master’s in Financial Economics,” she explained.

“Where’d you meet Mo?” Auston piped up.

She looked over at Morgan quickly. “He sent a drink to my table in a restaurant.”

“He _what_?!”

“I did _not_!” Morgan denied emphatically. “How many times…I did _not_ send a drink to your table! You got _pranked_!”

“You’re a lot smoother than I thought,” Auston commented. “In all the years I’ve known you, you would have never done something like that.” Auston turned his attention to Bee before adding, “He must’ve thought you were really cute.”

Bee couldn’t help but blush. She thought the last word anybody would use to describe her would be _cute_. “So how long have you known Morgan, then?”

“Well I’ve been in the Toronto sports industry since 2016,” he smiled, glancing over at Morgan quickly. “Mo became one of my best buddies. Showed me around the city, took me to all the good places to eat. He totally became the dad of the group.”

“The group? So there’s more of you?” Bee asked innocently.

“There is,” Auston nodded his head. “You’ll meet us all in due time.”

Bee’s nerves quickly dissipated the more she got talking with Auston and Frederik. She learned that Auston was originally from Arizona and that Frederik came all the way from Denmark. Even Morgan relaxed the more everybody got talking, his stiffness making way for more relaxed body language. They sat and talked for what seemed like hours. The one time Bee looked down at her watch – 11:15pm – told her that they _did_ talk for hours.

Bee was able to discern a few things about Auston and Frederik during her time with them. Frederik was definitely more sophisticated (hello colour co-ordinated outfit), a lot calmer than Auston, and seemed to genuinely listen to what Bee was saying. She appreciated his soft smile and the way he would roll his eyes at Auston. Auston was definitely the playboy. He seemed cocky, fun, and confident – definitely the guy you would want to show you a fun night out in Toronto – but still humble enough to know when to apologize, to say please and thank you, and to leave a _very_ generous tip to the waiter after he picked up the exorbitant bill.

As they made their way out of dbar, Morgan’s arm draped around her waist, she couldn’t help but notice the stares from other patrons. She wondered if the same stares happened when they had made their way into dbar. Stares made her self-conscious. Stares made her feel like she wasn’t supposed to be there; that she didn’t belong in such a swanky, upscale, expensive place. Stares like the ones she was seeing just made her want to be alone. There was one part of her fighting to say she had the right to be there just like anyone else; but the other part of her just wanted to curl up into a ball.

Right at the moment they were going to walk out, a man approached them with a giant smile on his face. Judging by the way he was dressed, Bee assumed he was the manager or someone important to the bar. “Matthews! Rielly! Andersen! How are you guys?” he asked loudly.

“Hey Joe,” Auston smiled, shaking his hand politely. “Good to see you, man. It’s been a while.”

Joe moved on to Frederik and Morgan before focusing his attention back to Auston. “You guys just heading out? Was everything good?”

“Great as always,” Frederik offered politely.

“It’s so good to see you guys again. You make sure all the other guys know they’re welcome. We’re gonna take good care of you guys this season.”

“You always do,” Morgan offered.

“Let’s get another one for the books,” Joe said, quickly taking his phone out of the pocket in his suit jacket and handing it to Bee. “Do you mind?”

Bee was taken aback for a quick moment, looking at Auston – who was still smiling – at Fred – who was pursing his lips together, trying not to look at her – and at Morgan – who looked so anxious it was as if he would throw up on cue. Why did he want a picture with them? Why did he…_why did he want a picture with them?_ “Yeah, of course.”

They posed quickly and she took the picture, Joe the only person smiling from ear to ear. Auston and Frederik were smiling politely but she didn’t think whatever was going on on Morgan’s face constituted as a smile. She gave the phone back to the man quickly. “D’you guys mind if I tag you?” he askd the boys.

“Go right ahead,” Auston said on behalf of the group. “We’ll see you again sometime soon.”

Bee stayed silent as they waited for valet to bring Morgan’s car around. Frederik was on his phone, typing away on the Uber app. Bee kept looking at Morgan, who seemed to be avoiding eye contact. She wanted to ask what that was about, but she didn’t want to ask in front of Auston and Frederik. There were a million different thoughts running through her head, and she didn’t know which one to verbalize.

“Am I…I mean, do you mind if I get a ride home?” she asked quietly.

Morgan looked at her as if she was crazy. He squeezed her hand. “Of course you’re getting a ride home. God Bee, you’re something else.”

“I didn’t want to make an assumption.”

“I’d drive you to Vancouver right now if you asked me to,” he said quickly, and Bee knew he meant it.

“Mo-daddy, you gonna drive me home?” Auston chuckled, the over-priced alcohol clearly getting the better of him.

“No. We’re going to take an Uber,” Fred answered for him.

“But Riles promised he’d drive me home!” Auston whined.

“Auston, we are taking an Uber,” Fred said definitively. He looked at Morgan before looking at Bee. “It was nice to meet you Briony.”

“It was nice to meet you too, Frederik,” she said politely, letting go of Morgan’s hand so she could hug him. “Get home safe.” She turned to Auston who had given up on his fight, though valet was pulling up with Morgan’s car. “It was nice to meet you, Auston.”

“I’m sure I’ll be seeing a lot of you,” Auston said, his filter apparently gone as he hugged her. “Mo will eat anything you put in front of him, including an entire ice cream tub if you let him.”

“MATTS!” Morgan yelled.

“See ya!” Auston waved sarcastically, running away to hide behind Frederik. Bee climbed into the passenger’s seat of Morgan’s car, watching Auston and Frederik as he drive away.

Bee was silent as Morgan began winding through the streets of Yorkville, eventually finding his way to Bloor Street. It was the first time she had been in his car, and she noticed the Porsche logo on his steering wheel. She took a deep breath in. Okay, so maybe they all made good money. _Great_ money. Maybe they made enough disposable income that they could go to places like dbar regularly and get to know the manager. Maybe they all had really good jobs and were able to go out on the town a lot. Maybe they could all expense it to a company account. And if there was a group, like Auston said, maybe there were a lot of them. All going out on the town. All expensing their nights to a company account.

But they why would that guy want a _picture_ with them?

She was so deep in thought that she didn’t even notice Morgan had already arrived at her apartment. Bloor Street at 11:30 at night wasn’t as busy as Bloor Street during the day, she thought.

“Briony…” Morgan’s soft voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Why’d that guy want a picture with you guys?” she asked, her voice a whisper.

Morgan gulped. There were butterflies in his stomach, knowing that everything would change now. The night had been perfect up until that point. It was now or never. “Because uh…we all play for the Toronto Maple Leafs.”

He looked over at her quickly and couldn’t discern the look on her face. “Like the hockey team?” she asked, as if there was another professional team in Toronto called the Maple Leafs.

“Yeah…like the hockey team.”

Bee nodded her head slowly, looking away from him momentarily. She mulled over the new information in her mind for a few moments. “So you, Auston, and Frederik…are you guys, like…good?”

Morgan couldn’t help but chuckle slightly. “Some people say so,” he answered her question as diplomatically as possible. So it was adamantly clear she had no clue about hockey. She had no idea who Auston Matthews was. No idea about “Steady Freddie”. Did he tell her she just had drinks with the franchise centre? A franchise centre who had girls practically fighting their way to get his attention? “So you’re telling me you’re the only person in Toronto who doesn’t watch hockey? _Didn’t_ watch hockey growing up?” he tried to inject some humour, hoping it would diffuse the situation.

“Watching hockey requires having owned a TV growing up,” she said curtly, reminding him of the poverty she grew up in.

This was going to be a harder conversation than he imagined it would be. He was an idiot for thinking this would go smoothly. “Briony --”

“So when you told me you worked in sports, what you really meant is that you’re a professional athlete.”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you just _tell_ me that?” she asked, trying not to sound angry. “I wouldn’t have minded. Better finding out straight from you than from someone demanding a picture with you or an autograph or something.”

“You wouldn’t have _minded_?” Morgan repeated.

“No!” she exclaimed. “Morgan, you’re still a _person_. You’re a _person_ before you’re a professional athlete,” she stressed. “You’re…this whole time…this _whole_ time…it’s almost been a _month_, Morgan. How did you even _hide_ it for so long?”

Morgan shrugged his shoulders. “Luck, I guess.”

“The people at the restaurant where we met – they didn’t know who you were?” she asked. He shook his head. That one was actually luck. “And Cibo – nobody knew there?”

“The guy who led us to our table, he knew. He always handles, like, VIP bookings or people.”

“How did he know we were there?”

“When you were in the washroom, I told the hostess my name and she called him and he came right out.”

Bee huffed. On one hand, she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She didn’t watch hockey, and she wasn’t in tune with the names, the news, the games and the trades, but she still understood how much the Leafs meant to the city. She still understood their power and influence. On the other hand, she should have known better. The clues were there – at this point, they were glaring at her, so obvious that she could only think how stupid she was to have not picked up on them.

“Talk to me, Briony.”

She looked at Morgan. “I just wish you would have told me earlier. I wouldn’t have cared.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Do people like…usually care?”

Morgan nodded his head. “Yeah, they do. A lot.”

“So, what was it? You didn’t want me to care?” she asked.

“No!” he exclaimed quickly. “No no, that’s not it at all. I just…God, I feel like I’m digging myself into a hole here,” he sighed, trying to find the right words. “A lot of people recognize me. Most, actually. So when the drink thing happened at the restaurant and you were like ‘what do you do’ and I clued in that you had no idea I was _Morgan Rielly_ it just felt…_nice_,” he tried to explain as coherently as possible. “Like, you were talking to me because I was…I don’t know, _a guy_. A guy reading the same book as you. You weren’t talking to me because I was Toronto Maple Leaf Morgan Rielly, and it just felt nice to be seen like that.”

He watched as Bee furrowed her eyebrows the more he tried to explain himself. “And you feel you’re not _seen_ like that enough. As just _a guy_,” she used his words.

“Yeah. Exactly.”

“So what happens now?”

Morgan got scared by those words. “What do you mean?”

“Well, the mystique of you being just _a guy _is over. Now that I know who you are…what happens? Does this stop? Do you move on to another girl who doesn’t know you’re Morgan Rielly?”

“Absolutely fucking not,” he said immediately. “I would never…_no,_” he stressed. “It’s not about that Briony. It was never about the mystique or trying to fool you or anything like that. Whatever bad thought you might be thinking, it’s not…there’s no way I would do that to you. To be honest, I don’t…I don’t know what happens next. The ball is in your court.”

He was surprised to see a smile grow on her face. “What a pun, Morgan. Shouldn’t it be like ‘the puck is in your zone’ or something?” she giggled.

Morgan couldn’t help but laugh too, realizing his words were so stereotypical for an athlete to say. It definitely diffused the situation. “What I’m _trying _to say is are you...I don’t know, _okay_ with me being a professional athlete?”

“I already told you I don’t care.”

Morgan let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. How did he find this girl? Where did she come from? “Then this doesn’t stop. I definitely don’t want it to stop. Do you?”

Bee shook her head. “No.”


	7. Chapter 6

September was always a month of change for Bee. It always meant new classes, new classmates, new professors, and new tutorial groups to teach. New essays to mark. New excuses from students who handed in assignments late.

New…_friends_ who were professional athletes.

September also meant Angie was back in Toronto with Mason, instead of being banished in Kingston due to Mason’s summer school course at Queen’s University. As a PhD student, Mason followed his thesis advisor wherever he lectured, and it just so happened that for the whole summer, he would be in Kingston. It was the only time Mason didn’t mind travelling with him, mostly because Mason was from Kingston so he didn’t have to incur any living expenses. For complete city girl Angie, it was a bit of an adjustment. Bee always kept reminding her it was only two months, but Angie was stir-crazy by the time they packed up to move back to Toronto.

Angie and Mason lived only a ten minute walk away from Bee in an apartment complex closer to Spadina Avenue, but still within the boundaries of The Annex. Mason earned a decent amount of money from all his grants and work as a PhD student, and Angie had been working at the Indigo head office pushing paper for about a year now. They were close enough to each other to be able to pop in for spontaneous dinners and movie nights, but far enough away to have privacy or do a very quick clean up (or, as Bee liked to joke, a “put your pants on” warning) before said dinners or movie nights.

Bee and Angie met the first day of their undergrad. Bee was taking HIS103, European History, as a breadth requirement satisfaction. Angie was taking it because she wanted to major in history, but it was Bee who helped Angie pass the course. It was also Bee who helped Angie pass her science breadth requirement course in first year. Angie repaid her by baking her cake that looked like an exact replica of the one from the film _Matilda_, which both girls had loved growing up. Mason came a year later. The rest was history.

It was nice, then, that Angie had invited Bee over the first night she and Mason were back in town. Mason was planning to make a stir fry with the vegetables they grew that summer in his parents’ garden, and Bee could never pass up a stir fry.

After Mason opened the door and gave her a hug, Angie came running over to her, almost knocking her over with sheer force. “I MISSED YOU!” she yelled as she squeezed the breath out of Bee. “I’m _never_ leaving Toronto again, I’m telling you!”

“What are you talking about? Kingston is beautiful!” Bee laughed.

“Yes, Kingston is beautiful, but you’re not in Kingston!” she said, letting go of the hug. “You have to tell me everything you did this summer in Toronto or else I’m going to lose it.”

Bee couldn’t help but cackle at Angie’s request. “Angie, what do you think I did? I graded shitty papers and I read in my apartment all summer. Sometimes I’d read in a park. There wasn’t much else.”

“Told you,” Mason piped up from the kitchen. Bee could see him plating the stir fry, which got her excited.

“You’re lying,” Angie said indignantly. “You met Morgan. You need to tell me all about Morgan.”

“Morgan?! Who’s Morgan?” Mason piped up again, picking up the three plates. He emerged from the kitchen balancing them all like a waiter. “Bee, you met a guy?”

Bee nodded her head. “Uh, I did. His name is Morgan Rielly.”

“Morgan Rielly? Hah! Dude has the same name as the Leafs’ defenseman,” Mason chuckled.

“Uh…” Bee didn’t know how else to bring it up. She had been sitting on this information for almost two weeks. She wasn’t going to let Angie and Mason know through text. “It actually _is_ that Morgan Rielly.”

At this point, Mason had been setting the plates on the dining table. As soon as the words left Bee’s mouth, he stopped all movements. “W…What?”

“Yeah.”

“Morgan Rielly.”

“Yeah.”

“You…you’re dating _Morgan Rielly_?”

“Yes,” Bee nodded her head.

Angie was too shocked to speak. She kept looking between her best friend and boyfriend, unable to formulate any coherent words. Bee looked at her for backup, but she couldn’t provide any.

Mason’s jaw was on the floor at this point. He set down the last plate so he didn’t drop it on the floor. “Bee…you…you’re dating a Toronto Maple Leaf? Do you…do you know what that _means_?”

Bee giggled nervously at Mason’s question. What did he mean by asking ‘do you know what that means’? It meant she was just seeing someone. She and Morgan hadn’t put a label on whatever was going on – all she knew was that she was having fun with him. It was obviously clear that they were very in to each other, but there hadn’t been any formal talk about what they were doing and what they were calling it. They were both young and busy, one professionally and one academically, so she understood why there was no rush to declare anything. She had faith that it wouldn’t matter in the long run. What they were doing was their business and their business only. “It’s not that big of a deal, Mason.”

“Yes it is, Bee,” he said. “The Toronto Maple Leafs hockey club is the stuff of legends. I…don’t…I can’t even…” now he was becoming speechless. “How the hell did you even meet _Morgan Rielly_?”

By the way Mason kept saying Morgan’s name in the tone that he did, Bee began to understand now what Morgan was saying to her in the car a few weeks ago – how she was one of the only people who looked at him as just _a guy_ and not as _Morgan Rielly_. She knew Mason had an interest in hockey, like many Canadian men, but she didn’t think he was this invested. “I was eating out one night, and he sent a drink to my table. Well, he says he didn’t send a drink and someone else pranked me in the restaurant, but when I approached him about it I noticed that we were reading the same book. Friedman.”

Mason made a bunch of hand motions, clearly not believing what he was hearing. “_Morgan Rielly_ sent a drink to your table?!”

“I guess so,” Bee shrugged. It was in the past now. “Every time I bring it up he denies it. Like the night we went out with his friends, Auston and Frederik --”

“WAIT,” it was Mason’s time to scream now. “Bee, are you fucking telling me you went out with _Auston Matthews_ and _Frederik_ fucking _Andersen_?!” he exclaimed.

“…Yes?”

“BRIONY!” he screeched. “Do you realize what this means?! Do you have _any_ idea who you went out with?!”

Bee smiled awkwardly. “Hockey players?”

“Oh my _God!_” he screamed, jumping up from his seat and running to get his laptop. “Bee, I cannot believe – I cannot _believe!_”

She looked over to Angie from some guidance or support, but found that Angie’s mouth was still wide open in shock. “Your boyfriend is nuts,” Bee said.

Angie shook her head. “He’s got a point, Bee,” she said softly. “You…you never told me he was a Toronto Maple Leaf.”

“I only found out like a week and a half ago.”

“Do you know how many girls would kill to be with him? To get in his pants?” Angie asked. “All these girls we see prancing along King Street West in their high heels and Aritzia clothes? All those Instagram model girls? They’re looking for guys like _him_.”

Bee could hear Mason stomping back into the main living area, practically dropping his laptop in front of Bee’s face. He had a tab open on the Google News search bar for Auston Matthews. “Do you see this?” he said, pointing to one of the headlines in a group of others. ‘_Matthews expected to sign multi-million dollar contract before season’s end.’ ‘Is Auston Matthews worth a $13 million contract?’ ‘Is Leafs management prepared to offer Matthews 8 x 13 million?’_ Her eyes watered at the amounts she was reading. “Do you see these headlines?” Mason’s voice snapped her back to reality. “This is who you went out with. You went out with the _franchise_ player, Bee.”

“Okay…” she didn’t know what else to say. She was still fixated on the amount Auston was earning – or was going to earn.

“And you’re _dating_ the star defenseman,” Mason elaborated. “I don’t know what you’re not understanding about this. These guys are the crème de la crème of hockey. They’re superstars. They’re --”

“They’re just guys,” Bee cut him off, trying to make sense of it all.

“They’re _not_ just guys, Bee. They’re professional athletes. Do you know what life is like for a professional athlete? Do you know what life is like for a _girlfriend_ of a professional athlete? Is your Instagram private yet? Because you better make it private during this conversation.”

“Mason --”

“I’m not joking, Briony. In a city like Toronto, I guarantee you that someone has already seen you guys together and recognized him and has posted something on a message board somewhere, or on a blog, or _something_,” he warned. “I’m not over-reacting, Bee. This is serious.”

“I think you’re overreacting just a little bit,” she said, half-trying to convince herself, too. “You’ve never even met the guy, Mason. He’s just a guy like you. He was reading Friedman. Fundamentally, he can’t be much different than any of the three of us sitting at this table.”

Mason tried to calm down. He took a deep breath in to calm himself. “Look, Bee. You know I love you. And you know I only want what’s best for you. I’m not telling you not to date the guy. If he makes you happy, that’s amazing. All I’m saying is you need to realize what you’re getting yourself into. He may be just a regular guy but this isn’t going to be a regular relationship.”

*

More often than not now, Bee was finding herself inside of King West bars. This time, at The Citizen, she sat patiently at the bar, waiting for Morgan to find parking and for his friends to come in. Fred was going to be there, thankfully, along with a new friend, Nazem, and his newlywed wife, Ashley, who had just returned from their honeymoon in Italy two weeks ago. She kept looking between the door and her book – her tattered copy of Ali Smith’s _Autumn_ which she was re-reading simply because she loved the book so much. It had been a while since she jumped out of Morgan’s car to get a table and she was wondering how far the parking lot was.

“Now there’s something you don’t see everyday,” a voice from beside her remarked.

Bee turned her head to see a guy staring at her, a smirk on his face. Was he talking to her? “What?”

“A girl with a book at a bar,” he nodded towards _Autumn_, like it was the most novel thing to be seen at a bar ever. There was a mechanical bull in Rock n’ Horse a ten minute walk away.

“Oh,” she said. “Uh, yeah?”

“Why are you here if you’re just going to read a book?” he asked.

“I’m actually meeting some friends,” she said. Not that it was any of his business. “Just waiting for one of them to park, actually.”

“So you’re here all alone then.”

“For now,” she narrowed her eyes. “But like I said, my friends are coming.”

“My friends are here too,” he motioned behind him. “It’s my buddy’s birthday. I just got promoted too, so it’s just a big celebration tonight.”

Bee tried not to roll her eyes. Being in a business/economics program, guys who approached her like this, saying they had just gotten a job or had just gotten promoted to try to impress her, were like a dime a dozen. She knew how to read them like the back of her hand. “Congratulations to you. Where do you work?”

“Accounts in RBC,” he revealed. She was smart enough to know that wasn’t an impressive job. “What about you, sweetheart?”

“I’m getting my Master’s in Financial Economics.”

“Ooooh, a studying girl,” he wiggled his eyebrows. “I like that. I can work with that.”

“I don’t think you want to. I might be your boss one day.”

He laughed in her face at that comment. Like, legitimately laughed in her face. He thought she was joking, but she was being completely serious. Once she got her degree, her entry level jobs were higher than his “accounts at RBC” position he bragged about getting a promotion in. She couldn’t believe he was laughing in her face. “A feisty girl, too. I like that.”

“Hey,” Bee heard an all-too-familiar voice say suddenly, just as she was going to respond to the guy. Looking to her left, she saw none other than Fred looming over her, his gentle smile adorning his face.

“Hey!” she exclaimed almost a little too excitedly, jumping up from her seat and moving towards him to give him a friendly hug. Hopefully it sent the guy a message. “So nice to see you!”

“Hey bud,” the guy butt in, apparently not taking the hint. “I was just speaking to uh…” he pointed at Bee, realizing that he still hadn’t asked for her name.

“Briony is my friend,” Fred said as he gave the guy a death stare. He looked back at Bee. “Do you know this guy?”

“I’m Briony’s new friend Daniel,” he introduced himself to Fred with a forceful handshake. “Are you guys out celebrating tonight too?”

Bee could see that Fred saw something from beyond her before he looked to the guy again. “Briony and I are going to go now. Our friends are here,” he said politely.

“I was actually just about to buy Briony a drink,” Daniel said. “Maybe she can meet up with you guys later.”

Bee could tell Fred was trying his hardest not to laugh. He realized it was going to be harder than usual to get this guy to see the point. “I’m sorry – I don’t think you understand --”

“Hey,” another all-too-familiar voice said, interrupting Fred and Daniel’s small battle. Morgan appeared, with who Bee could only assume to be Nazem and Ashley. “Table’s ready for us,” Morgan said, ignoring Daniel.

“You must be Briony’s other friends,” Daniel, ever persistent, inserted himself into the conversation once again. “I was just about to buy Briony a drink. Maybe she can meet up with you guys later,” he tried again.

It took a moment for Morgan to realize this guy was serious. He started laughing at the ridiculousness of the comment, right in Daniel’s face, just as Daniel had done to Bee moments earlier. “We’re going to go now. We’ll catch ya later,” Morgan winked at him sarcastically before he put a hand on the back of Bee’s shoulder to guide her through the restaurant. Bee gave Daniel one last shrug of her shoulders before following the group.

“Do you know that guy?” Morgan asked once they were out of earshot.

“No. I don’t know him. He was just uh, talking to me.”

“Like, flirting?”

“I think so? He was pretty bad at it if it was,” she said, noticing Morgan was looking back at the guy, who had already moved on to talk to one of his buddies – probably the birthday boy. “It was honestly nothing. He was trying to be so smooth but failed miserably.”

“He keeps looking over here,” Morgan said. “I just hope he drops it.”

“He will. Don’t worry.”

Bee settled into easy conversation with Ashley, who was very personable and talkative, especially about her wedding and honeymoon. Bee had always wanted to go to Italy, so she soaked up everything Ashley was telling her about the different areas and cities. All of the pictures Ashley was showing her on her phone were to die for. One day, she’d make it a reality.

Nazem was a sweetheart as well. He told embarrassing stories about Morgan, especially when he first arrived on the team, but they were all in good fun and Morgan didn’t seem to mind. Nazem had been one of the longest serving members of the Toronto Maple Leafs, so he had a lot of stories. Bee was in stitches as she heard about all the pranks they played on each other on the road. But the more Nazem, Morgan, and Frederik detailed what their life was like, especially their life ‘on the road’ during away games, the more Bee began to see that…well, maybe Mason was right about _some_ things.

She was still adamant that the men in front of her were just that – men – and fundamentally, nothing really separated them from being normal, everyday people. It was just that they were ordinary people with extraordinary jobs. But when they began outlining the traveling schedule, the workouts, the practices, the team bus trips, the midnight trips to airports, the copious amounts of coffee consumed throughout the day, the signing of autographs and pictures at airports, lounges, sponsored events, outside of arenas, in bathrooms…

…It was _a lot_.

Maybe Mason was right about a lot.

Ashley told her how she maintained a fairly private life, away from the fanfare and persistent hockey media in Toronto. First was, of course a private Instagram profile – the only public one was for their cat, Jazzy, and she asked everyone to tag her using that profile so no-one would see her personal one. Baseball caps were good friends for anonymity – and that’s when Bee realized that was why she almost always saw Morgan out in the summer with a hat. Booths instead of tables as restaurants, so people would have to literally peer over to see them, and always, _always_ in the back corner of a restaurant. Call ahead of time to make a reservation. _“I always say that the only people who should recognize you is the saleswomen at the Holt Renfrew on Bloor Street,”_ Ashley joked, but Bee knew there was a twinge of seriousness in the statement. _“They can tell people the designer stuff you bought, but not much else.”_

Bee began to feel overwhelmed. She began to think about her place in all this – where exactly she fit in. She wasn’t sure she had a place. She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to find a place, truthfully. She didn’t realize the magnitude – if you could even call it that – of the life Morgan, Nazem, and Frederik lived; of the live Ashley had to live because her husband was a professional athlete on a team that was revered by practically the entire city – some could argue the entire country. It’s not like Leafs fans were just in Toronto.

She was just Bee. Briony McTavish of Toronto, Canada. A Master’s student. A poor, starving Master’s student. A teaching assistant at the University of Toronto. Where did she fit in?

When the group called it a night and Morgan went to fetch his car, Fred stayed back with Bee inside of The Citizen. He could tell she was tired – probably warn out from a week full of classes and leading her tutorial groups. “You know that book you were reading when I found you?” he said, catching her attention.

“Autumn?” she clarified.

Fred nodded his head. “Morgan has that book.”

Her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach. “What?”

“He said you raved about it one night. He dragged me to Indigo in the Eaton’s Centre to buy the series and he spent like, five minutes trying to explain what he was looking for to the poor sales girl because he forgot the title.”

The hairs on the back of Bee’s neck stood on end. She was at a loss for words. Why was Fred telling her this?

“He read them on the bus down to Niagara…and the whole time we were in Niagara,” Fred continued, referring to the bit if pre-season training camp they went to the Niagara region for earlier in the week. “He would like, be alone in his room reading them. You know how he likes to be alone. And he wanted to talk to you about them, because I think he was having some trouble understanding some of the things, but I guess he didn’t.”

Bee could swear her heart skipped a beat. She felt like she was going to throw up all over this big beautiful Danish man in front of her. Was he just saying this? Or did Morgan actually go out and buy Ali Smith’s books? Did Morgan put him up to it? Was it a plant? Did he just read the summaries online? Did he –

“Briony! Leaving so soon?” a voice from behind her yelled. She turned around to see Daniel with a pint of beer in his hand. “I didn’t get to buy you a drink.”

She was _not_ in the mood for this. Not at _all_. Not after what Fred just said. “Are you for real right now?” she demanded, not caring if she sounded rude. “I’ve been with my friends for three hours and you’re still here trying to shoot your shot?”

“I said I was gonna buy you a drink. I always keep my promises,” he kept trying to flirt. When he noticed the exasperated look on her face, he was a bit taken aback. “What? Can’t a guy buy a girl a drink these days?”

“They definitely can, Mr. Accounts at RBC, but not when she’s clearly trying to have a good time with her friends,” Bee chastised him. “And like I said, I’m going to be your boss one day, so this is probably not your smartest move.”

“What’s your problem?” Daniel narrowed his eyes.

“What’s the issue here?” Bee heard Morgan’s voice from behind her. She rolled her eyes again because of course, _of course_ he had to get out of his car and show up _now_. And like any boy, he was going to huff and he was going to puff until he blew the whole house down. “Are you bothering her again?”

“I can handle it.”

“I’m trying to buy her a drink. Can you _relax_?” Daniel said to Morgan.

“Well clearly she said no, and clearly she doesn’t want it.”

“Who are you to speak for her?” Daniel demanded.

At this point, Morgan sidestepped around Bee to come face to face with him, peering down at him. Bee grabbed hold on his arm. “Morgan, stop it. Let’s just go.”

“She. Doesn’t. Want. You,” Morgan enunciated his words clearly. “Get the fucking hint.”

“What are you? Her boyfriend or something?”

Bee had had enough. She was going to be the last person in the universe to cause a scene at a bar. “Let’s _go!_” she said loudly, forcefully pulling Morgan’s arm towards her to disengage him. She practically dragged him out of the bar and towards his car. He kept looking back but eventually stopped to get into his car.

“What the fuck is wrong with that guy?” he asked to nobody in particular, Freddie closing the door to the backseat once he had squished himself in.

“You should drive Fred home, he’s had a long night,” Bee ignored his open question. She buckled her seatbelt and caught a quick glimpse of Morgan, who was adjusting his own.

“I should go back in there and --”

“Fred’s had a long night,” she repeated, more forcefully this time, so Morgan would get the hint. She knew he was a hockey player and all, but he never seemed like the type to get hot-headed about something so futile, something she could have handled all on her own. “Drive him home _please_.”

She looked through the rear-view mirror to see Fred smiling, and when he caught her eye, he winked at her. Morgan began driving along King Street, taking a few side streets before ending up at what Bee could only assume was Fred’s condo building – a sleek, glass structure that seemed like it was a hundred storeys high. He probably lived in a penthouse that overlooked the city skyline. The money shot. He probably had a bathtub filled with money.

Fred left after thanking them for a fun night out, patting Morgan on the shoulder as he wiggled his body out of the backseat of the car. Morgan waited until Fred got into the lobby before looking over at Bee. “You wanna come over mine?”

It was the first time he was inviting her over to his place. The queasiness in her stomach that began after her conversation with Mason roared up again. Despite whatever reservations, she nodded her head. Reversing the car, he made his way out of the entranceway and back on to the street.

With one hand on the steering wheel, Morgan reached over with his other and grabbed her hand. He brought it towards his lips and kissed it tenderly, setting it down on his lap. Bee’s heart fluttered at the tenderness of the action. It momentarily cleared her mind, reminded her that it was just Morgan, that they were just Morgan and Bee, in a car together driving to his place. Everything around them – the people, the stores, the restaurants, the entire city of Toronto – none of it mattered in that moment.

And then her mind brought everything back to her.

“Don’t ever do that ever again,” she said, her voice somewhere between a stern demand and a whisper.

Morgan looked over at her. “Do what?” he asked. She should have assumed he was going to play dumb.

“I don’t want anybody fighting over me, ever.”

“Why not?”

She sighed, glancing out the window. “There isn’t much worth fighting for. And I could have handled it. I _was_ handling it.”

“_There isn’t much worth fighting for?_” Morgan threw her own words back at her. “Bee, are you fucking nuts?”

“What?”

“You…you severely underestimate how much of a catch you are, you know that?”

She looked down at her thighs, squished against the pristine leather of his luxury car. Her pants were $10, on final sale from H&M. She’d bought them two years ago. The part at the inner thigh was starting to become too thin from years of her thighs rubbing against each other, and she was sure they’d rip soon. She wondered if she’d be able to fit into the same size and style when she would inevitably have to buy a new pair. Probably not. Her body had changed since then and she was lucky that she even still fit into these. They had stretched enough to accommodate her body but it was become too strenuous on the fabric. “Stop.”

“I mean it, Briony.”

He knew exactly when to use her full name and it agonized her. “I’m being serious,” she said, unable to look at him. “Just please don’t do that again.”

“I can’t make any promises. When I see someone making you uncomfortable, I’m going to react.”

She dropped it. She knew she had to. There was no way she was going to win this. If Morgan wanted to be that person – fine. There was no way she could control it. He didn’t regulate her behaviour, so she couldn’t exactly regulate his. She just wished he was able to see how the confrontation made her uncomfortable.

His apartment was slightly what she expected, slightly a surprise. It was big, which she imagined it would be, with what seemed like two bedrooms and a den. There was a nice big kitchen with an island, but it looked barely used, despite some of the see-through cupboards being filled with various pots and pans. It was nicely decorated, with a big grey sectional, a huge flat-screen TV, and wood accents throughout. There was a giant painting on the wall that caught her eye – one of Gord Downie, from the Tragically Hip – and she immediately fell in love with it. If she could steal one thing from his apartment, that would be it.

“I can give you a change of clothes,” he said as they walked into his bedroom. She saw that he had an ensuite and wondered if the other bedroom had one too. It was much bigger than her place – probably three times the size at least, maybe four – but it was still cozy.

She changed into a tank top with a Maple Leafs logo on it and a new pair of boxers. She was pretty sure he worked out in the top, and she laughed at the thought of him washing it six or seven times to get the smell of sweat off of it. Both fit. The tank didn’t drape over her like it would on a small delicate body and make her seem shapeless, and the pair of boxers he lent her, because of their elastic band, fit snug around her hips.

When she turned around from changing, she saw him already topless underneath the covers. He tried to make it seem like he wasn’t watching her, but she knew he was. Out of the corner on her eye, on the bedside table, she could see the green and maroon spine of _Autumn_ by Ali Smith on his bedside table. She gulped.

He barely waited for her to crawl into bed and snuggle into his body before he started kissing her, and really, who was she to deny a kiss from him. She kissed him back hungrily, wasting no time in relishing the feeling of his hands wandering along her body. She felt the muscles in his back and shoulders and shuddered at how firm but soft he was. She’d never felt anything like it. When his mouth began to wander, nipping and licking at the skin on her neck, near her ear, and along her clavicle, she let out haughty, satisfied sighs, dragging her nails lightly over his biceps.

When his hands began to wander lower and lower, playing with the elastic band of the boxers, she giggled slightly. “I just put those on,” she breathed out.

“Too bad I want to take them off,” he muttered against her skin. “Fuck, Bee. You drive me fucking _crazy_.”

It was comments like that that sent her to oblivion. She had no way to react. She was momentarily lost in the abyss, her head tilted back enjoying the sensation of his lips on her skin and his hand down her pants. It was only when she opened her eyes and saw the familiar cover of _Autumn_ again that she snapped back to reality.

_He likes to be alone. He was alone all weekend reading that book._

_Those Instagram model girls are looking for guys like him._

_He’s the star defenseman, Bee. This isn’t going to be a regular relationship._

“Morgan…” she said absent-mindedly, her thoughts intruding on her again, become too much to handle. By now, Morgan had pushed the shirt all the way up so it was bunched just under her breasts. Of course, she wasn’t wearing a bra. She hadn’t even noticed her state. He continued to kiss her skin. “Morgan.”

“Hmm?”

“Are you seeing anybody else?” she asked suddenly.

_That_ question definitely brought Morgan back down to reality. He stopped kissing. “God no,” he answered immediately, as if it was the most absurd question in the world. He furrowed his eyebrows. “Are _you_?”

“No.”

The words hung heavy in the air. Morgan knew where this was going. It wasn’t exactly the most opportune moment – he would rather be doing _other things_ – but he acknowledged Bee apparently wanted to talk about this now. “You call the shots here, Briony. I fell for you hard and fast. You gotta know that by now. You gotta know that I want to be with you.”

Bee didn’t know what to say. She had so many thoughts swirling around in her head that she didn’t know what was right and what was wrong; what was a rational thought, and what was completely irrational. She didn’t know what was an actual cause for concern or her just projecting insecurities onto Morgan. Her thoughts wandered back to Ashley Kadri, trying to picture a typical day for her, shrouded in secrecy. Then she thought about the other wives and girlfriends, and whether or not they had a similar life.

Then came the most important person: herself. She was in her last year of her studies. If everything went to plan, she’d finish her course and its exams in December. She’d apply to jobs in the New Year and hopefully land something. She’d graduate in June. She’d work her way up the corporate ladder.

She had to think about her education. She had to think about her job prospects. She had to think about her career.

She was Bee. Briony McTavish of Toronto, Canada. A Master’s student. A poor, starving Master’s student. A teaching assistant at the University of Toronto.

A professional athlete’s girlfriend?

“Can we…” she began, unable to think straight. “Can we maybe…I feel like you’re going to hate me.”

“There is nothing you could say that could make me hate you.”

She sighed. That wasn’t true. “I have to think about my education and my career. I like you and I like being with you but those things are my top priority. I’m conflicted because this was all unexpected but I love it and I’m having so much fun and I just…I just know that I can’t get too distracted. My education and my career have to be my top priority, Morgan.”

“I know, I know,” he agreed, nodding his head. “I support that Bee. You know I support that.”

“Can we…can we just wait? Not put a label on it right now? Like, I know I’m not seeing anyone else and I don’t plan to, and you’re not seeing anyone else right now --”

“And I don’t plan to,” Morgan added.

“And you don’t plan to,” Bee nodded. “So we can…can we just take it slow?”

“Take it slow?” Morgan repeated after her. “Listen, Bee…I’ll do whatever you want me to do. I just want to be around you.”

His words brought her back to what Auston said to her that night at dbar, about Morgan liking being alone, and what Fred had said that night about Morgan being alone in his room reading Ali Smith. “I thought you liked to be alone. Auston said you liked being alone. So did Fred.”

“I do, Bee. And I know you do too. I don’t know…can’t we be alone together?”

She smiled at his choice of words. He was definitely reading Ali Smith if he was using an oxymoron like that. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“Yes it does. We can make it make sense,” he said. “You and me, alone…like, nobody else surrounding us. No team, no city…whatever. But together. Us.”

She couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. God, he was so earnest. Maybe the next thing she should recommend to him was _The Importance of Being Earnest_ by Oscar Wilde because Lord, the look on his face and the hope in his eyes made her want to melt into a puddle right then and there.

She nodded her head. She pulled him closer and continued to kiss him because for the first time that night, it was the only thing on her mind, and the only thing that made sense.


	8. Chapter 7

“Where are you?” Bee asked into the phone worriedly as she looked up, trying to find the address of the building she was standing in front of.

“You have to come in through the 50 Bay Street entrance,” Ashley Kadri’s voice said calmly on the other end. “50 Bay Street. You’re on Bay Street, right?”

“Y-Yes…” Bee broke out into a jog, noticing she was still at The Design Exchange on 234 Bay Street. She cursed the student that stayed an extra fifteen minutes after tutorial to bombard her with questions. This wasn’t helping the time anxiety she had. “God, am I going to be late?”

“Bee, it’s six. The game doesn’t start until 7. Where are you?”

“I just passed the Design Exchange.”

“Oh my God girl, you’ll be fine,” Ashley assured her, a slight giggle in her voice. “If you’re late I’ll ask them to delay the game until you get here.”

Bee couldn’t help but snort. “Am I the worst person ever? I promised Morgan I’d see him before the game.”

“You are the farthest thing from the worst person ever,” Ashley assured her. “They haven’t even started their skate yet. You’re going to be fine. Have you eaten?”

“No.”

“What do you want to order?”

Bee was slightly thankful that there was a red light so she could stop running. She definitely wasn’t a runner. “Um, I think I’ll be okay.”

“I can get you a burger?”

“I’m – I’ll be okay.” The light turned green. Again, running.

“I’m ordering you a burger,” Ashley said. “A bacon cheeseburger. The fries here are so good and – wait, Bee, are you running?”

“Yes,” she huffed, trying to weave her way through people. “I just don’t want to be late.”

“You’re going to be fine, Bee. Take your time. I’ll see you soon.”

Bee was flattered when Morgan had invited her to come to one of the pre-season games to watch him play. She had never been to a hockey game before. She had never been inside of the Air Canada Centre – or Scotiabank Arena, whatever. She was a Toronto kid – it was always going to be the ACC to her. When she accepted his invitation, it wasn’t even an hour later when Ashley somehow got hold of her number and called her, excited that she would be there. _“You’re going to be able to meet everyone!”_ Ashley had told her excitedly. Bee was too scared to ask whether she was talking about other wives or girlfriends or members of the team.

She tried to swallow whatever anxiety she had about it when she entered the giant glass doors at 50 Bay Street. Just as Morgan promised, there was a woman there behind a podium, a short hallway and one black closed door behind her. Her sleek, blonde ponytail fell long against her back. “Can I help you?” she asked.

“Uh, hi, yes,” Bee tried to catch her breath. “Um, I’m here for the hockey game.”

“This is the member’s club entrance, miss,” she said. Bee noticed she gave her a quick up-down, her eyes staying on Bee’s messenger bag for a bit longer. “You’ll have to look at your ticket to see what gate you need to enter.”

Morgan had given her some sort of Platinum Club pass thing – something special guests of the players could flash to get in, he said. Bee remembered she had stuffed it into her bag before she left for class. “I have this,” she said as she fished around for it, finally finding it amongst her notebooks and pencil case.

Bee handed the pass to the woman, who looked at it carefully. “Where did you find this?” she asked.

Bee furrowed her eyebrows. What was she insinuating? “It was given to me,” she said sceptically, wondering what this woman was assuming. “I mean, I can give you my name if you want? If there’s a list or something? It’s Briony McTavish.”

“I’m going to need to see a piece of photo ID.”

Bee gulped. She didn’t have a driver’s licence. And she didn’t bring her passport. “Um…I don’t…I don’t…”

“If you don’t have ID there’s no way I can verify you are who you say you are,” the woman said sternly.

“I mean I…” Briony was at a loss for words. “Morgan Rielly gave me that pass. He gave it to me.”

“Miss --”

“I can call my friend Ashley Ka--”

“I’m afraid I can’t let you --”

As if on cue, like a guardian angel, the black door from behind the woman opened, and the first thing Bee noticed was Ashley’s long brown hair curled perfectly, not a strand out of place. “Hey Gina, did my friend Briony come in ye – Briony!” she exclaimed, running up from behind Gina to give her a hug. “Gina, this is Bee – she’s with Morgan,” she said quickly to Gina. She turned her head back towards Bee and smiled. “Your burger is waiting. It’s so good to see you again!”

Ashley dragged her by the hand towards the door, and Bee gave one more look to Gina, who kept her eye on her, before disappearing beyond the door. Once she was in, Bee could immediately feel the _size_ of the building, how big and multilayered and complex it was. Ashley seemed to know exactly where she was going. She led Bee through a bunch of doorways. They finally arrived at what seemed like a lounge area for friends and family. A few people were already inside, eating some food and talking amongst one another. Bee imagined the older people were parents of the players.

“Your burger is right over here,” Ashley said, leading her towards a table. “After you eat we’ll go pick up your jersey. Morgan told me he left you one to wear during the game.”

“Am I going to be able to see Morgan?” Bee asked quickly at the mention of his name.

Ashley gave her a look. “Not before he goes out onto the ice, no,” she said. “We can go down to ice level when they do their pre-game skate though. Have you ever been to a game before?” she asked. Bee shook her head. “Not even as a fan?”

“No,” Bee shook her head again. “To be honest, I don’t think I’ve ever even watched a full game of hockey before.”

Ashley’s eyes widened at the revelation. “Okay. This is my time to shine,” she said to herself, pushing her hair behind her ears. “I’m gonna give you a crash course. Ashley Kadri’s What I’ve Learned About Hockey,” she announced. “I may be wrong about some things…most likely about the icing rule and the offside rule, but…whatever,” she rolled her eyes. “You can eat and learn, right? I mean you’re a Master’s student.”

Bee giggled as she nodded her head. She was in for it.

*

Bee liked how she blended in amongst the sea of fans that had arrived early to watch the team practice and skate before the game began. Even with her newly acquired Rielly jersey, she felt like she was amongst a sea of Leafs fans. The young ones had their faces pressed up against the glass, following their favourite player’s movements. Others were cheering and waving, taking pictures on their phones. Some even had signs asking for pucks and sticks. She stood with Ashley about seven rows up, watching as the team practiced shooting the puck into the net and did various stretches.

Morgan saw her almost the second she got within visual distance, as if he had been looking for her. He waved slightly and she waved back – that small action was enough to garner a smile on his face as he began to skate around with Matthews. Ashley blew a kiss at her own husband as Bee watched Morgan skate gracefully around the ice. He really looked at home out there, and despite the mass of people filing into the arena, she felt a sense of calmness watching him.

“Some of the girls are here,” Ashley said as she looked up on her phone. “We should go meet up with them and then we can go to our seats.”

“Where am I sitting?” Bee asked.

Ashley looked at her as if she had two heads. “You’re sitting with the rest of us, Bee. In the family section,” she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. A flash of concern washed across her face briefly before she continued. “Bee…you know, like…I mean, is this all new to you?”

“Yeah. I’ve told you I’ve never been to a hockey game before.”

“No, I don’t mean that,” Ashley shook her head. She wasn’t stupid. She had picked up on the cues – not just tonight, but from the night when they all went out as well. She obviously did not want to say anything then, and she wasn’t going to ask Nazem or Morgan about it, so she had to figure it out on her own. “I mean, like, all _this_,” she motioned to everything around her. Hockey. The arena. Her impeccably styled hair. Her fashionable designer handbag hung across her body. “Is _this_ all new to you?”

Bee stiffened. Was it that obvious? Did she really stick out like a sore thumb? She knew she didn’t act like Ashley around the arena – all confidence and smiles and greeting practically everyone by name. And she knew she didn’t look like her – styled to perfection, glossy lips and winged liner. But was it that bad? Did she really not fit in? “Y…Yeah,” she finally admitted, her voice soft. There was no point in denying it. She would only be digging a bigger hole for herself. “I’m just…definitely not used to this.”

“I don’t want you thinking you’re an outsider or anything,” Ashley said immediately. “I don’t want you thinking you don’t belong. Just because it’s new to you, or you’re not used to it…I mean we were _all_ not used to it. You belong just as much as anyone else. You don’t have to feel uncomfortable or think anything, like…bad.”

“It’s just hard because I don’t know what to expect,” Bee admitted. “Everything feels so new. I’m not used to the free stuff. I’m not used to much, to be quite honest.”

“Do you mind me asking why not?” Ashley was apprehensive.

“I grew up really poor and with an alcoholic mom. We never had much when I was growing up, and I’ve managed to live on not that much since then,” Bee was honest with her. “It’s not that I don’t know that it’s available, and it’s not that I don’t know it’s around me. It’s that I don’t know it’s meant for _me_.”

Ashley felt sympathetic the moment Bee mentioned her mother. She didn’t expect Bee to be so open and honest with her, but she was grateful that Bee at least expressed the foundation as to why she wasn’t used to hockey, or nicer things, or free jerseys, or free burgers. “You know…I mean, I know it’s not my place, but if it’s any consolation, I think you’re gonna have to start getting used to it all,” she said.

“Why?”

Ashley couldn’t help but smile. “Mo wouldn’t shut up about you to Naz,” she revealed. “Like, literally wouldn’t shut up apparently. He’s smitten. Even Auston thought you were great, and Auston is notoriously finicky with people.”

Bee couldn’t help but crack a smile at the revelation. She felt like if Ashley talked about it anymore, or if she thought about Morgan talking to Naz about it, she would self-combust. “Let’s go meet up with the girls. They must be waiting for us.”

When Ashley introduced Bee to Lucy and Alannah, their warm hugs made her feel right at home. Lucy owned her own yoga studio in Minnesota was married to Jake Gardiner, one of Morgan’s best friends, and she was so pretty Bee could only consider herself a gremlin in her presence. Alannah, tall and statuesque with long blonde hair, was a lawyer, newly called to the bar, and was Zach Hyman’s fiancée. She already had a job lined up as an associate in a firm downtown. When she found out that Bee was getting her MFE and close to graduating, they settled into a comfortable conversation about school and job prospects. Alannah cracked a lot of jokes about working with lawyers and they shared some horror stories about working in still male-dominated environments. By the time the American and Canadian national anthems were being sung, Bee felt as if she had known Alannah and Lucy forever.

Despite it being only a pre-season game, the Scotiabank Arena was full and there was an energy buzzing around the building. Bee took her seat in between Ashley and Alannah, constantly looking for Morgan’s #44 on the ice. She had to remember there were different lines and that he wouldn’t be on the ice at all times. As she watched, Ashley kept mentioning the rules and what to look out for, and for Bee it was like a sensation overload. The puck, the ice, the lines, the line _changes_, the goalie, the wingers, the D, the bodychecks, the high sticks, the penalties, the penalty kills…it was _a lot_. And it was so fast paced, Bee barely noticed how quickly the periods went by until the final buzzer. The Leafs had won 6-2 against Detroit. Everybody in the arena was cheering.

It was a while before the team finished their media interviews (“They’re already being interviewed? It’s only the preseason.” “Oh, Bee.”) and whatever clean-up they had to do. Everybody sort of filed out in one big group and began to mingle with those waiting for them. Bee waited patiently for Morgan, who was one of the last out. When she finally saw him, his hair was sticking up in every direction, his tie tied haphazardly around his neck. He was speaking to someone – an older gentleman – also in a suit. He waved her over and she approached gingerly, making sure not to cut in to whatever conversation they were having.

“You got the jersey,” he smiled, revelling in the vision before him. “Bee, this is Mike Babcock,” he said, introducing her to the older gentleman. “Mike, this is Briony McTavish.”

She couldn’t help but appreciate that he didn’t introduce her as his girlfriend to whoever this person was. Ever since their talk, they _had_ been taking it slow and they were taking the time to get to know each other better. They were still getting together, still going on dates, and still making dinners at home for quiet nights in. And yes, they were still spending the night, still having fun, still having sex, but there wasn’t any added pressure; there were no demands. If she was busy marking one night, or had a late class, or was just too tired to get together, Morgan understood. If Morgan was out of town for a game, or wanted to sleep in on an off-day, or wanted to get together with his teammates for a boy’s night, Bee understood. They were working. They were working well.

Mike quickly extended his hand and she shook it politely. “Did you enjoy the game?” he asked politely.

“Yes!” Bee smiled excitedly. “I really loved it. All the goals were awesome. There were so many.”

“I’m glad we won for you,” he said.

Bee picked up on his use of ‘we’ almost immediately. She knew he obviously worked for the team if Morgan was introducing them; she just didn’t know in what capacity. “What position do you have with the team?” she asked innocently.

Mike was silent for a moment before letting out a chuckle. Morgan’s eyes widened slightly, but he grinned as Mike chuckled. “I’m the head coach, Ms. McTavish,” Mike said.

“_Oh_!” she gasped, covering her mouth. “Oh my God I’m so sorry.” She was mortified. Completely mortified. _How_ did she not know who the head coach of the Toronto Maple Leafs was? _How_ did she not research this beforehand? _How_ did Morgan not tell her?

“I like her already,” Mike winked at Morgan before shaking his hand. He turned his attention back to Bee. “You take care now Ms. McTavish. Safe drive home. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again at the home opener.”

“I’m so sorry I didn’t kno --”

“Don’t you apologize Ms. McTavish. There are more important things to know and worry about in this world.”

“It was nice to meet you Mr. Babcock,” she said, still mortified. When he was out of sight and earshot, she practically elbowed Morgan in the ribs. “_Why_ didn’t you mention he was the head coach?”

“Watch it,” he held his side tenderly. “If you injure his defenseman he’ll get angry at you.”

“Morgan I’m being a hundred percent serious,” she began whispering. “How did you not to tell me? Why didn’t you introduce us, like, ‘This is Mike Babcock, _my coach_’.”

“It probably humbled him a little bit.”

“_Morgan_.”

“How could you not know who Mike Babcock is?” he asked innocently.

Really? Was he _really_ going there? “I have more important things to worry about,” she said firmly. “You know, like budgeting so I can afford to go grocery shopping this week.”

A scared look washed over Morgan’s face. “Bee, I don’t mean it like that,” he immediately began apologizing.

“Hockey is not my life, Morgan. It’s yours.”

“Bee, I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he apologized, grabbing her hand. “Bee, come on. You know I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry. I just thought…”

“You thought what?”

“I forgot I was dating the one person in Toronto who never watched hockey,” he said. “I thought you might have looked it up or something. But I was wrong. It was an innocent mistake, Bee. I swear. I _promise_,” she felt him squeeze her hand.

She let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding and rested her shoulders. “It’s okay…just…_please_ make sure you introduce people with name and position so I don’t look like a complete tool, okay? I don’t know _anybody_. If the owner of the team walked up and tapped me on the shoulder, I wouldn’t know him.”

The universe conspired so that Bee felt a tap on her shoulder at that very moment. When she spun around, she let out a sigh of relief when she saw Lucy smiling at her. There were so many men around – so many of Morgan’s teammates – that Bee had trouble keeping track of them all. There was one of his best friends, Jake Gardiner – Lucy’s husband – who seemed tired but nice, ready to go home. There was a new teammate, Tyler Ennis, with his mane of beautiful hair and a wicked sense of humour Bee could pick up on, just waiting to burst out of him. There was Zach Hyman, Alannah’s fiancé, who was so polite and kind Bee thought she would fall over. There was even John Tavares, serious and polite, but with a giddiness about him. She thought she recognized the name from somewhere, and racked her brain trying to remember, until she finally did: on the cover of the Toronto Sun newspaper, the day after Canada Day. The hometown boy who finally came back to Toronto.

As more teammates began to file out, Morgan got the itch to leave too, but he knew they wouldn’t be able to go until Bee said goodbye to Ashley, Lucy, and Alannah, who were tied up in conversation with Travis Dermott.

“Hey Bee?”

“Hmm?”

“Where are you spending Thanksgiving?”

Thanksgiving was about in about ten day’s time. She was planning on spending it alone, because Mason and Angie always went back to Kingston to spend it with his family. “Um, just around town,” she answered vaguely.

By her vague response, he figured she wasn’t doing much. He was going to go for it. It was a big risk, and a big step, but they payoff would be worth it. If it meant spending more time with her, it was always worth it. “Well, I’m having Auston, Tyler, and Fred over for food on Sunday. You’re more than welcome to come.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude on your boys n--”

“You wouldn’t be intruding. I’m inviting you.”

“Um…should I bring anything?”

“Just bring yours--”

“Hey, you coming to Thanksgiving or what?” Auston’s giant body snuck up beside Bee’s, causing her to jump a little. By the tone of his voice, and by the way he asked the question, Bee figured it was something Morgan ran past him. “Can you cook a turkey?”

Bee couldn’t help but chuckle. “I d--”

“Matts, you can’t just _ask_ her to cook a fucking turkey for us.”

“Why not?!” he demanded. “What’s Thanksgiving without a turkey? We are _not_ ordering fucking burritos like you suggested.”

Morgan rolled his eyes. “It was _just_ a suggestion!”

Bee was giggling at this point. “For your information, _yes_, I know how to cook a turkey. Sort of.”

Both men looked at her, shocked. “Really?” Morgan asked.

“Yes. I’ve done it only once before with Angie but it’s been a few years.”

“Okay, cool. Bee’s making the turkey,” Auston smiled. “Hey, do you know how to make mashed potatoes?”

“Matts!” Morgan chastised.

“Who _doesn’t_ know how to make mashed potatoes?” Bee asked rhetorically.

“Incompetent hockey players, that’s who,” Auston winked. “So Bee’s making the turkey and mashed potatoes.”

“Matts, why don’t you just get her to cook the whole fucking dinner,” Morgan said sarcastically.

Auston’s eyes lit up. “Hey man, that’s not a bad idea if --”

“_MATTS!_”

“YOU SUGGESTED IT!”

“Oh so we can’t have burritos but we make one person cook an entire dinner for five p --”

“Guys!” Bee exclaimed, unable to keep her laughter in. Morgan looked at her, horrified. Auston’s eyes were still glowing. “I can do it. It’s fine.”

“Bee, no,” Morgan shook his head.

“I really don’t mind. Seriously,” she said. She saw the concerned look on Morgan’s face. “_Seriously._ I don’t mind. You know that I like cooking. If everyone can maybe just pitch in for the groceries that would be cool.”

“Oh, trust me, we’ll cover everything,” Morgan gave a look to Auston. “And he’s going to pay you labour since his brilliant mind is going to be putting you through this. Make sure you charge him a union rate plus overtime,” he glared at Auston. “Fucking ridiculous, Matts. She’s gonna be cooking for a bunch of hockey players.”

“If she’s willing to make it I’m willing to devour it. End of story,” Auston shrugged his shoulders. “I’m glad we settled this! I’ll see you two lovebirds later,” he winked one last time before practically skipping towards the stairs.

Morgan gave Bee another horrified look. “You seriously don’t – I mean, we can order food. We can order from a fancy restaurant and pretend --”

“You need to stop,” she giggled, raising her hand and placing it on his chest. “I’ll be fine. We’re just gonna have to co-ordinate when we can get all this shopping done.”

Morgan grabbed her hand on his chest. “We’ve gonna leave before you get roped into doing anything else.”

She had one last thing to settle before they left. “What am I supposed to do with the jersey now? Who do I give it back to?” she asked.

Morgan looked at her strangely. “It’s yours now, Briony.”

“But Ashley said you wanted me to wear it for the game.”

“I did.”

“But the game is done now.”

“So?”

“So shouldn’t I give it back?”

Morgan shook his head. “You’re something else, Briony,” he muttered tugging her away from whoever remained, giving them all a general goodbye with a big wave before they descended down the stairs.

“Should I take it off? Should I give it back?” she asked.

“The only person that’s gonna be taking that off you is _me_,” Morgan declared, increasing his pace down the stairs.


	9. Chapter 8

It was the Toronto Maple Leafs’ home opener.

Despite an essay being due that day at 5pm, and despite another assignment being due in two days, one worth a whopping 40% of her mark, Bee had promised Morgan she would be there. _‘It would mean a lot to me’_ he had told her one night after they had finished a steamy round of sex at her place. _‘It would mean the world to me if you could be there.’_

How could she say no to him as she was wrapped up in his arms and entangled with his body? How could she say no when his voice was so soft, his intentions so pure, his heart so full? How could she say no to watching him do what he loved? It was the easiest yes she ever told someone. The biting of his lip to suppress his earnest smile afterwards made her want to blow him for the entire fucking night if it meant the smile never left his face.

Bee always had five-year plans. They began when she was eleven years old and browsing the internet at her local public library about how to live apart from an alcoholic parent. Almost all of the websites she found talked about living with another relative, but she didn’t have any. Then the words ‘legal emancipation’ came up. This was Bee’s first five-year plan: document everything her mother did (or, in reality, didn’t do) to have a case in court that she should be withdrawn from her mother’s parental control. She was successful. Because Bee voluntarily withdrew parental support and left home, her mother wasn’t legally obligated to support her – which was exactly what she wanted. No more contact with a mother who would spend money on alcohol instead of food or decent shelter. No more obligations to a mother who, by her own inaction, forced Bee to start fending for herself at an age most kids were still playing with dolls or kitchen sets. No more vulnerability exposed to a woman whose severe alcoholism didn’t make her care at all about her own daughter, however wanted or unwanted she was. No more addiction. No more alcohol.

Once she was legally emancipated from her mother, Bee’s second five-year plan, which spanned ages 17-21, came into effect: get into university, then get into grad school. She got a job as a cashier at a grocery store and worked after school and weekends to earn enough money to rent out a room in the basement of a house near her school. She got letters of reference from her teachers for little-known scholarships not many people would be applying to. She maintained a high enough average that U of T gave her an academic scholarship to cover about half her tuition. When she won the other scholarships, she was safe in knowing her tuition would be covered and she wouldn’t have to incur debt or other loans.

She was currently in the middle of her third five-year plan: get into grad school, graduate with a job offer, and work. At 22 years old, she was on the right path to achieving it. If all went well – which it had to – her fourth five-year plan would come into effect: work hard to get at least one promotion, save enough money, and buy a place.

The plans were contingent on some things working out for her – like keeping her current apartment at the rent she was already paying and getting a job as soon as January when she didn’t have to attend classes anymore – but she knew she would be able to do it. She worked hard so that everything ‘worked out’ before. There was no reason it couldn’t work out again. And again.

What the plans _were not_ contingent on was her meeting someone. They were not contingent meeting Morgan Rielly of West Vancouver, British Columbia, and actually becoming, as corny as it sounded, completely smitten with him. The plans did not include making out on his couch for hours, falling asleep in his bed while watching Netflix, or having a game on in the background while she marked. The plans did not include spending a good three hours researching everything to do with hockey and the Toronto Maple Leafs so she could, even just slightly, begin to understand his life.

But she was letting him in. Fast. He was quickly becoming a part of her life, an _established_ part of her life. So established, apparently, that she agreed to go to his home opening game without so much as a second thought.

The energy inside Scotiabank Arena was palpable. Bee cheered and clapped along with the rest of the fans, family members, wives, and girlfriends in attendance as the announcer was introducing the team. She made sure to scream extra loud when Morgan’s name was called, and she noticed how loud the arena got when John Tavares was announced. From beside her, John’s wife Aryne couldn’t stop filming the reaction. They were opening their season against the Montreal Canadiens, and Bee knew she had to boo them because they were one of the team’s oldest rivals. A Canadiens player scored the first goal, but the energy wasn’t sucked out of the building at all. In fact, it came right back about three minutes later when Auston scored a goal to tie it. When Aryne pointed out that Morgan got an assist on the goal, Bee screamed even louder.

When the first period ended, Bee remembered that she had twenty minutes to spare before the second began. As she watched some of the other wives and family members get up to go to the washroom, she looked down at her messenger bag and then to Aryne. She wondered if it was appropriate to take out her laptop and work in between periods. Did anyone else ever do that? She was _sure_ that in the entire history of hockey, there had to be _one_ girl who took out a book or notebook or laptop and focused her attention on something other than hockey. Getting an education never looked bad, right? “Aryne…”

“Yeah babe?” she answered absent-mindedly while looking down at her phone.

“Do you think…I mean would it look bad…” Bee began.

Aryne finished typing her text before locking her phone and looking at Bee. “Would what look bad?”

“I…have…I have homework,” Bee said, completely embarrassed.

“Oh my _God_! Are you joking! Take that stuff out _right now_!” Aryne cried. “You have homework? What are you working on?”

“Richard Thaler’s theory of behavioural economics.”

“You take it out _right now_ and start working,” Aryne demanded like a mother. “You’ll be setting a good example. Some of these girls need to be doing homework instead of filming themselves drinking wine for the Instagram stories.”

Bee snorted. “You’re something else, Aryne.”

“I’m being serious. I’m trying to be less judgemental as a whole, but I still can’t help but feel snippy about dropping out of school to be an Instagram model with a YouTube channel,” she said. “I went to McMaster and got a bachelor of science in kinesiology, then I got my Master’s from Queen’s in physiotherapy. All while John was playing hockey in New York. You don’t need to be shy about breaking out a laptop with a 100-page PDF because I know that feeling.”

Bee couldn’t help but think back to what Angie had expressed when she and Mason found out Bee was dating a hockey player. _‘All those girls wearing Aritzia on King West, all those Instagram model girls are looking for people like him.’_ Yet she was the one here for Morgan, not an Instagram model. Were things changing? Was it still out of the realm of possibility in this day and age, where so many people went to university, that a hockey player could date a girl smarter than him, with two degrees? Aryne proved it wasn’t an anomaly. So did Alannah. She was sure other women did too. She wasn’t so out of place after all, was she?

“Okay, thanks Aryne,” Bee smiled, not feeling as bad about it anymore as she dug into her bag to get her laptop.

“I’m going to run to the washroom but I can grab you something if you want?” Aryne asked as she stood up from her seat. “Some wine, maybe? Behavioural economics sounds…tedious.”

“I’ll be okay. Thanks though.”

As Aryne left, Bee focused her attention on exactly what Aryne had predicted: a PDF about behavioural economics that was required reading for the assignment she was working on. Family members around her mixed and mingled with each other as she zoned in, conceptualizing the theory in her head and adding some notes to her assignment. She knew she wasn’t going to get the entire thing done within the two intermissions she would be given, but it helped. Anything helped.

During the second period, John Tavares scored his first goal as a Maple Leaf and the entire arena, including Aryne, went nuts. She couldn’t stop jumping and dancing around, and she even stood on her seat and stretched up to high-five John’s parents, who were sitting two rows above them. And though the game went into overtime, it was poetic justice when Auston Matthews scored the game winner. It couldn’t have been a more perfecting ending, a more perfect start to the season. The Leafs beat their rivals.

Bee could start to understand, at the most miniscule scale, how and why people loved hockey so much. If they got to feel like _this_ because of the team on any given basis, she would be a die-hard fan too. She knew there were probably some not-so-great times, and she knew sports were a lot more complicated than this simple understanding she had right now, but it was interesting to see this side of things – this world she didn’t have privy too growing up, or even now. If she hadn’t have met Morgan, she didn’t think she would have ever been able to experience this. It was fun and exciting and confusing and daunting all at once – much like everything else in her life up until this point. After having to figure out life and survival on her own, having people like Morgan, Ashley, Alannah, and Aryne to guide her into this new foray was a welcome blessing.

When the game was finished, Bee followed everybody backstage where they patiently waited for the boys to be done with interviews and other post-game happenings. Bee was chatty with Ashley and Alannah when they boys started to file out. Like the pre-season game, when Morgan made his way through the doorway, his hair was a dishevelled mess. He looked so cute. He immediately found her in the crowd of people and made his way over.

“Hey,” he greeted her with a smile, bending down to kiss her quickly. She still had his jersey on and, stereotypically, it was his favourite look on her. The way her brown hair fell over the letters of his last name somehow drove him crazy.

“What a game!” she smiled excitedly. “Auston’s first goal! And you _assisted_!”

“I know, Bee.”

“And then John! First one as a Leaf! Then overtime! Auston again!” she recounted the game to him as if he wasn’t there.

He nodded his head and his smile got wider with every exclamation from her. “You’re buzzin’ right now,” he laughed. “Buzzin’ like a bumblebee.” Seeing her so giddy about a game of hockey made him ecstatic.

“It was a great game!” she adjusted her bag on her shoulder. “The crowd loved it too!”

“Did you bring homework?” he asked unexpectedly as he noticed her bag.

“Y…Yes?” she answered apprehensively. “Remember how I told you I have that assignment all about behavioural economics…” she tried to explain herself.

“Atta girl,” he whispered, dipping down to kiss her again. “You ready to go? Wanna come over mine?”

She shook her head at his request. “I’ve got class at nine in the morning tomorrow,” she explained. She thought about whether or not she should add the second part. “You want to…uh…come over mine instead?”

“See ya guys later,” Morgan announced to everyone, giving a big wave to everyone before grabbing Bee’s hand and pulling her along with him. She laughed, knowing this is the exact same exit strategy he took last time when they left during the pre-season game.

As they made their way to the Scotiabank Arena’s underground parking lot, Morgan continued to hold her hand until they got to his car. Ever the gentleman, he opened the door for her before walking around and getting into the driver’s seat. He started the car, but instead of backing out of his parking space, he just looked at Bee. When she noticed they weren’t moving, she looked over to see him staring. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“C’mere,” he whispered. She leaned over the centre console and he kissed her gently, bringing his hand up underneath her shin. He gave her a few more kisses. “Thank you for being here,” he whispered.

“It was a lot of fun,” she reiterated her sentiments from earlier.

“I know, but I really mean it,” he said. “I get how you like to be alone so I know it’s a lot for you to come to these things. I know it takes a lot of like, energy or whatever, especially for introverts, to be around big groups of people…so thank you,” he whispered.

With every kiss and with every comment like that he made to her, it was getting harder and harder for her to ‘take things slow’ and ‘not put a label on it’. Her words. She was humbly aware that they had only met in late July. She was humbly aware that since then, in all of their interactions and dates and adult-themed sleepovers, they hadn’t fought once. She was humbly aware that with each passing day, he was carving out a place in her life she hadn’t made room for; one that he nestled into comfortably, without disruption, without fanfare. Like he was always meant to be there.

She was also humbly aware that with each passing day, now that the season had started, it was going to get harder. She would miss him when he was gone. She wouldn’t be able to see him as often because of traveling, or because of practice, or because of the schedule of game days.

“I’ll always come and support you,” she said. “I know you’d do the same if I played hockey too or whatever. Plus most of the girls are great. They’re very warm and welcoming and it doesn’t feel…I don’t know, tiring to be there, or be with them. I might have to ask you for some extra tickets sometime though so I can bring Angie and Mason.”

“You just tell me when,” he gave her one last quick kiss before finally reversing out of the spot.

When they finally arrived back at Bee’s apartment, Morgan undressed while she washed her face and brushed her hair in the washroom. He stripped down to only his boxers before getting into her bed, lying down with the covers half-draped over his body.

“I thought your backcheck was good tonight,” she said from the washroom.

Morgan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Did the word ‘backcheck’ just leave her mouth? In the right way? In the appropriate context? “Um, excuse me?”

“You heard me,” she said as she appeared in the doorway, brushing her hair and sweeping it over one shoulder. “Your backcheck was good. Like, I know you’re a defenseman, so that’s kind of your job…I think…but I looked for it tonight and thought it looked good. Better than the pre-season game I went to.”

“Who are you and what have you done with Briony McTavish?”

“Shut up!” she giggled, throwing her hairbrush back into the washroom before making her way towards the bed.

When she climbed in, Morgan’s grabby-hands went into full effect, guiding her body towards his. He only meant to cuddle and be close to her, but Bee took it as an invitation to climb on top of him. He wasn’t exactly complaining. “Where’d you learn all that?” he asked. Despite being genuinely curious, he couldn’t help but be more interested in the feeling of her straddling him on her bed. His hands caressed her exposed thighs and squeezed at the flesh. Her pajama shorts were riding high. Morgan licked his lips at the thought of what they could get up to. He wondered if she could feel him getting hard beneath her.

“I studied,” she grazed her fingertips lightly over his chest.

“You _what_?”

“Mhm,” she giggled slightly. “It’s what I do best, Morgan. I researched and I studied. I even know who Mike Babcock is now.”

“Well you know what…” he said, his hands wandering from her thighs to her hips, grabbing at the flesh there, too. If it were up to him he would grow extra arms to be able to touch every inch of her body. “I studied too.”

“You did?”

“Mhm.”

“And what did you learn?”

He gave her a look. “Macroeconomics.”

She giggled at the tone he used, how nefarious the look on his face was. “_Oh_.”

“I have something even better,” he winked. He propped himself up so he could get even closer to her. He gave her a quick peck on the lips before continuing. “_Microeconomics_.”

She snorted, unable to hold in her giggles. “Talk dirty to me, baby.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” he mumbled as he began kissing her, leaving a trail along her jawline to her ear. His hands traveled to her thighs again, but this time slipped in between the gaps of her shorts. “_Karl Marx_,” he continued, biting down on her skin.

“You know how to make a girl horny, don’t you?” she tried her hardest to stop laughing, but her attempt was futile.

“The proletariat and the bourgeoisie,” Morgan continued.

“Oh my God Morgan_,”_ she chastised him. He was beginning to sound like a first-year economics student who thought they already knew everything. He bit down on the skin of her neck while simultaneously slipping his hands underneath her shirt, pulling it up. “_Morgan._”

He kissed his way back up to her ear. “Alan Greenspan.”

“NO!” she exclaimed immediately. The mention of Alan Greenspan _definitely_ did not get her off. She broke out into a fit of laughter. “ABORT MISSION!”

“AH!” the look on Morgan’s face was one of pure fear. “Oh, um, KEYNESIAN ECONOMICS!”

“Yes! That’s better!”

“Social safety net!” he exclaimed again.

She began to cackle from laughing so hard at the absurdity of it all. She fell beside him, giggling like a man woman. She could feel her eyes well with tears for how hard she was laughing. “There’s something wrong with you,” she managed to giggle out.

“Stop trying to get me to lose my momentum!” he accused her. His large body hovered over hers as his hand found her hips again. He began kissing her again; light feathery kisses along her jawline and neck as his fingertips traced their way along the elastic band of her shorts. “I’m trying to seduce you here.”

“It works when you mention Karl Marx and the proletariat.”

“Oh yeah?” he smirked at her response. She nodded her head. “I gotta brush up on my reading of the Communist Manifesto then.”

“I’m more of a Das Kapital girl myself.”

Morgan rolled his eyes. “Okay, who’s getting the economics degree here again?” he posed the question, garnering another laugh from her. “Should I start signing up for classes? Don’t start treating me like one of your first-year students.”

“I don’t know,” Bee rolled her eyes playfully. “Might get to boss you around a little bit.”

Morgan’s eyes lit up. “I like the sound of that. Gives me an uprising in my pants.”

Bee cackled again, pushing his body off her. Morgan collapsed onto her side, laughing at the silliness of it all. The mood was ruined but her heart was full. She couldn’t believe it. “You’re something else, Morgan Rielly.”


	10. Chapter 9

When Morgan awoke on Monday, Thanksgiving morning, his legs sore from the game last night in Chicago and his equilibrium still off due to the late flight and the time change, he expected to roll over and come face to face with Briony. Instead, he came face to face with nothing; a cold, empty side of the bed without her warmth.

It took him a while to wake up. He was notorious for it. During his rookie year, he made a deal with Jake Gardiner that Jake would have to drive to the arena in the mornings, but he would drive them everywhere else, since they only had one car. It was that bad. He’d tried to improve it over the years, even going so far as to try and maintain a proper sleeping schedule, but nothing worked. And so as he tried to wake himself up mentally, he started to think about the only thing that had been on his mind lately, besides hockey: Briony McTavish.

Morgan had asked Briony to be there on Sunday night – to sleep over so that when he came home, she’d be there, in his bed – and she readily agreed. He knew she was thinking it was more for the Thanksgiving feast she had to cook the next day, but selfishly, he just wanted her there so he’d have her to wake up to in the morning. To be able to wake up next to her was a luxury that he wanted all the time.

After his first encounter with Briony at Green Cactus, after she approached him about that drink being sent to her table and they ended up having their dinners together, he had texted Jake Gardiner. _‘I met a girl.’_ That’s all he had to text him. The next time Morgan spoke with him, it was all they talked about. He’d hung with Briony more since then, and he wanted to tell Jake all about her. Jake’s reaction was _‘If she’s willing to go out with you even though you smell so bad make sure you do everything in your power to keep her around.’_

Everybody had always commented on how much of a level headed person Morgan was. In life, in hockey, in pretty much everything – people considered it his best trait. He didn’t overreact about much. He always thought about things a lot – some would say too much – before he made any decisions, especially big decisions that would affect his life drastically. Everybody had also always commented on how he liked to be alone. Sure, he liked hanging out with his friends, especially his teammates, and these days when he was back in Vancouver for the summers he was more social than usual, but even his mom had commented on his affinity for being alone growing up. The way she phrased it once was perfect to him: “You like to be alone, but not lonely.”

It was for these reasons, however, that his complete descent into the adoration of Briony McTavish made the most yet least sense to him. He couldn’t get enough of her. At all. The way her hair fell down her back. The way she would put it into twists or buns or French braids. The way her eyes lit up when she talked about what she was learning or what she was reading. The way her clothes hugged her curves. The way her hands held pens. The way her fingers danced along keyboards. The way she giggled when she was giddy. The way she laughed with her whole body. The way she laughed so hard she snorted, then laughed even harder. The way she sipped wine. The way she cut onions and garlic and poured olive oil into a saucepan to start a meal. The way she adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder. The way she didn’t assume anything. The way she was honest about everything in her life, past and present. The way she carried herself with such dignity and grace. The way she knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to ask for it. The way she communicated her wants and needs. The way she looked under him, panting as she moaned his name. The way she looked on top of him as she straddled him and rode him in bed. The way she looked cuddled up against him on the couch underneath a blanket with a bowl of extra buttery popcorn. Everything about her.

He was in deep already. He acknowledged that they only met in late July. He acknowledged that it had only been a couple of months since they met. And he acknowledged that she hadn’t gotten a true taste of the hockey world or hockey schedule, and that yes, it could be too much for her and she could decide she didn’t want to go through it – but he was completely ready, willing, and able to carry this on for however long she let him; however long she allowed him, an athlete, to be in her life, one so full of promise and potential.

It was madness. But nothing had ever felt so natural in his life besides hockey.

But he was in so deep he kept finding it harder and harder to ‘not put a label on it’ and ‘take it slow’. He’d agreed initially because, well, she could have told him he had to walk on hot coals everyday and he would have said yes. But it was getting harder for him to hide his emotions. It was getting harder to seem like he didn’t care about being together, about making it official, about putting a label on it. And he could only wonder, after their many stays at each other’s places, after spending so much time together, after agreeing to prepare a Thanksgiving feast for him and his friends…he could only wonder if it was getting hard for her, too.

The only snag in all of this – and he never thought he’d say this – was hockey. Not the sport itself. No. The sport itself was beautiful. It was magic. It was the best sport in the world and nobody could ever convince him otherwise. It was the hockey media. It was the intense pressure. It was everybody around him knowing who he was every given moment of the day, wherever he went. On most days, he just wanted to be left the fuck alone. When he was with a girl, he _really_ wanted to be left the fuck alone. With Briony, he wanted to just keep her in a cabin in the damn woods so nobody would see her with him.

To protect her. To make sure she didn’t get hurt.

As he finally managed to roll himself out of bed, he walked into his ensuite washroom to wash his face and brush his teeth. He also put on a shirt, thinking it was probably unhygienic to be in a kitchen without a shirt on. Maybe if he texted Auston a picture of himself near the turkey shirtless, he wouldn’t come anymore, and he and Briony would have the day to themselves. He could only dream.

When he walked out of his bedroom, he saw Briony buzzing around the kitchen, heaps of food scattered around the countertops and on the island. Potatoes were in one area, veggies in another. She had already set the oven for 350 degrees, but looked like she was still preparing the turkey.

He snuck up behind her, as quiet as he could, before wrapping his arms around her from behind. She let out a small yelp at the sensation, not realizing he was there, of course. She looked back and he gave her a quick kiss to the temple. “G’morning,” he said, his voice still scraggly from sleep.

“You’re awake,” she said, rubbing his arm with one of her free hands.

“You’re not playing music,” he said.

“Hmm?”

He kissed her neck. “You always play music when you cook. You’re not playing music.”

She smiled. “You were sleeping. I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Wouldn’t have cared,” he said. “It’s also nine in the morning. I shouldn’t be sleeping for this long.” He took a quick moment to look at the giant turkey in front of him. They bought one earlier in the week – a 12 pounder. It had basically been defrosting since. Briony checked up on it more than she did him this week. He saw that she had seasoned it, put some nice herbs on it. There was stuffing, at Auston’s late request. As if he wasn’t asking for enough already. “Turkey looks good,” he commented.

“You can’t tell your teammates how much butter is on this turkey,” she said in a worried tone. Morgan snorted at her admission. “I’m completely serious. There’s almost a stick of butter on this thing.”

“It’s our secret,” he said, giving her one last kiss on the neck before letting go of her body. “Do you need help with anything?” he asked, ready to lend a helping hand.

“I’m okay.”

“Briony.”

“Morgan, you know how I don’t like anybody else in the kitchen when I’m cooking,” she reminded him.

“Yeah but that’s for a dinner for two. This is a Thanksgiving meal for five. Four of them being hockey players,” he rationalized.

“I’ve managed my time,” she informed him. “I know exactly what I need to do and when I need to do it. I’ve even budgeted for a shower and getting ready before the boys come over. I’m good.”

Morgan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You sure, Bumblebee?” he used the nickname he’d given her opening night. She never said anything against it.

She nodded, standing on her toes to kiss him quickly. “Go take a shower. You smell.”

*

Tyler Ennis and his glorious mane of hair arrived first. He brought a bottle of wine with him (ever the cordial guest), and Morgan opened it immediately so they could enjoy it with the array of appetizers Briony had prepared: a charcuterie board, some cheeses, and homemade bruschetta. Briony got along with Tyler wonderfully – he had only signed to the Leafs this year, but Morgan took a quick liking to him and his personality in the locker room. Briony seemed to be taking a liking too, and his trademark sense of humour was in full effect as he chowed down on the meats and sipped his wine while he talked to her.

Fred came next. He brought another bottle of wine with him and informed them that Auston was on his way, too. The four ate their way through the charcuterie board and finished Tyler’s bottle of wine. Tyler told some great stories about growing up in Edmonton and making the NHL with his best friend. Fred told some funny stories about growing up in Denmark. Auston still hadn’t arrived.

The oven beeped loudly, signalling that the turkey was done. Morgan watched as Briony went to check on it, taking it out of the oven and removing the foil tent. He knew it had to sit for twenty minutes before it could be served. Auston still hadn’t shown up. He watched as she began to prep the platter for the turkey. Watched as she transferred it over carefully. Fred and Tyler were pretending not to look but the smell was too amazing to ignore. She began to take out all the sides she prepared from the warming oven – the mashed potatoes, the green beans, the corn, the carrots and other assorted vegetables. She started to make the gravy on the stove.

Morgan was getting antsy. If Fred said that Auston left the same time as he did but Fred was here first, then where the hell was Auston?

“Hey, do you have a sister?” Morgan heard Tyler ask Briony. “I gotta get me a nice girl who can do this.”

“Nah. I’m only and lonely,” she laughed. “You can always learn to cook a turkey yourself, Enzo.”

“Don’t give me logical answers to things, sweetheart. It makes my head hurt,” he remarked, causing Briony to laugh out loud.

Morgan took out his phone. He sent a quick series of texts to Auston.

_Don’t you dare be late_

_There’s a 12 pound turkey in the fucking oven_

_Briony’s been slaving in the kitchen all fucking day_

_If you’re late, I’m never going to forgive you_

As if on cue, there was a buzz that came through to the condo, signalling his arrival. Morgan let him in immediately. When he looked towards Briony, she was already looking at him. “Auston’s finally here?” she asked. He nodded his head. “Okay good. I can start putting everything on the table,” she picked up the mashed potatoes and walked it over to the dining table. From the corner of his eye, Morgan noticed Fred staring at him with a grin on his face. Briony, too busy with handling on the food, didn’t notice the grin, or the little wink he gave Morgan, or the general energy he was passing, which was totally a _‘You’ve got it baaaaaaaad for this girl’_.

When Auston appeared in the doorway he was carrying a large bouquet of flowers. Beautiful ones, too: roses and gerbera daisies and lilies, all mixed in with some greenery. Morgan watched as Briony’s eyes lit up as he handed them to her, and she looked at him asked, “Morgan, do you have a vase?”, but he was a single man, and single men don’t get flowers, so he didn’t have a vase, so Briony said she’d make due and plucked a couple of the gerbera daisies out of the bouquet, filled up a glass of water, cut the stems, and put them in the glass. She put the glass in the centre of the table. Fred bent over to smell them.

First all the sides went onto the table. Everybody sat down politely and Tyler rubbed his hands together in anticipation as Briony carried over the turkey. Auston even started clapping. As she set it down, she looked at everything on the table and smiled. “Bon appetite, y’all,” she said.

“WAIT!” Auston said, slapping Tyler’s hand away as it reached for the mashed potatoes. “We need to take a picture for the ‘gram.”

Morgan rolled his eyes. “Auston.”

“This is the first Canadian Thanksgiving where I’m not eating takeout Chinese food,” he said, standing up. “I’m documenting this whether you like it or not.”

“Let me take the picture,” Briony said, standing up again and taking Auston’s phone from him. “Teammates together for Thanksgiving. The fans will go wild.”

Once she took the picture, Tyler reached for the mashed potatoes again. “Okay, I’ve been waiting for this meal all day, so screw you guys but I’m calling dibs on half of the mashed potatoes.”

“Give me the beans,” Fred said.

“Who’s cutting the turkey?!” Auston worried.

“Are those carrots?”

*

Auston was the first to leave. He’d gotten a call, and the second he got it Morgan knew it was a girl by the way he looked at his phone. He’d spent the next fifteen minutes texting and eventually, he broke it to everybody that he called an Uber. Everybody called him out, but all he did was shrug his shoulders. Briony made sure to pack him a Tupperware full of leftovers. _“Did you know Morgan and I bought this Tupperware together?”_ he said to her, asking for more turkey. Briony commended him for being a responsible adult, but when he revealed he hadn’t used them yet, she smacked his arm.

Tyler left next. He’d helped clean up, loading the dishwasher and helping Briony with preparing the Tupperware containers to go home to Auston, Fred, and himself. For him, everything had to be covered in gravy. _‘You’re a fucking champ for doing this,”_ he said to her, giving her a big kiss on the cheek and a hug before he walked out the door. He didn’t go for a booty-call, thankfully; he actually had an early morning appointment with one of the team’s trainers before they left for their next game in Dallas, and he wanted to get a decent amount of sleep.

Fred left last. He lingered a little bit too long for Morgan’s liking, but Morgan knew he was doing it on purpose. Fred had watched the entire night as Morgan made eyes at Briony and he wanted to torture Morgan for as long as possible. Fred knew Morgan was probably going to jump Briony as soon as he left, and he wanted to make him wait. Morgan wanted to kill him. He made a mental note for payback against him sometime in the near future.

The entire dinner went off without a hitch. Everyone laughed and shared stories and enjoyed the meal, and when Briony mentioned there was dessert – a homemade tiramisu – Tyler mentioned how he was in love and Auston unbuttoned his pants like an 80-year-old grandfather to “make more room”. Despite them being his teammates and despite Auston concocting this whole idea when they could have just ordered food, Morgan truly did enjoy himself, and it did feel like their own version of a family, as weird as that sounded. If he couldn’t be with his mom, dad, brother, and dog in Vancouver, then these were the people he’d want to spend the holiday with.

“Thank you so much for hosting us,” Fred smiled as he stood at the doorway, slipping on his shoes. “You’re a fantastic cook, Briony.” He looked behind her to where Morgan was standing, with a look on his face that could only be described as _‘Fucking finally’_. “Thanks for having us over, Mo,” Fred smiled.

“You’re welcome,” Morgan said curtly. He was gracious and glad that everything went well but right now he just needed Fred to _leave_.

“When will I see you again, Briony?” Fred asked. Morgan wanted to punch him. Physically fight him right then and there. The smile that adorned Fred’s face wasn’t a polite one or because he was mentioning seeing Briony again; it was because he knew how much he was annoying and torturing Morgan.

“School is getting pretty busy, but I might make it to the game against St. Louis next Saturday. Depends on how much I get done,” Briony said.

“Awesome! Can’t wait,” he smiled. “Mo, you have your alarm set already?” he procrastinated.

Morgan was going to explode. “Yes Fredward. Have a good night.”

“You guys take care,” he winked, mostly at Morgan, before opening the door behind him.

Once it was closed, and once Morgan knew Fred had made his way down the hall, he looked at Briony. She was leaning against the door, looking up at the ceiling, her eyes closed. Taking in the moment. Breathing in and out. “That went well,” she whispered, almost to herself. She looked at him, finally. “Did you have fun?” He nodded his head. “And be honest. Was the food good?” He nodded his head again. She cocked her head to the side and look at him strangely. “Why’re you so quiet?”

“Just lookin’ at you,” he said, his voice low and quiet. “Just admiring you.”

She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. When she saw the look in Morgan’s eyes, nothing that needed to be expressed in that moment could be said in words; it was only definable by actions. He moved forward to grab her face, giving her a deep kiss, which she reciprocated readily. They kissed for a while against the doorway, hot, steamy, wet kisses, like teenagers first learning how to make out and sticking their tongues down each other’s throats.

Eventually Morgan’s hands started their favourite activity: roaming along her body and grabbing at her flesh, lifting her shirt up and over her head. Exposing her black bra, Morgan dipped down and kissed his way towards her chest. His hands grabbed her ass, pushing her against him so he could lift her up to gain better access.

She didn’t understand what he was doing at first; she didn’t actually think he’d want to do such a thing. Despite still kissing him her mind wandered to being self-conscious about it despite him having already taken her shirt off. “Morgan…” she mumbled against his lips. His hands gripped even tighter. “I’m gonna be too heav--”

“_Shut it_,” he demanded, and she gave in and he picked her up and it was just a visceral reaction, her wrapping her legs around him as he gripped at her ass and held her up. She could feel him already hard underneath his pants. He took no time in kissing and nipping at the skin along her collarbone, and eventually, he carried her to his bedroom where they fell into the bed as a mess of tangled limbs.

His hands immediately went to her waist to unbutton her jeans, getting it done quickly and efficiently. “Mo…” she breathed out, her voice heavy. “Mo…”

He didn’t answer her; only continued to strip her of her jeans and throw them across the room. She grabbed at his shirt and slipped it over his head quickly, thinking if she was getting naked he needed to, too. He hooked his fingers into her underwear and slid them down her legs, throwing them in the same direction. His fingers immediately went to her core, feeling how wet she already was.

“_Morgan_,” she whined, the lower half of her body writhing at the sensation of his touch. His fingers found their way quickly between her folds. He dragged them up and down, teasing her.

“That feel good?” he asked, his voice husky as he watched her bite her lip. She nodded her head in response and that gave him permission to tease her even more. He started to rub circles with his thumb, which garnered another gasp and a grinding of her hips towards his hand. “You like when I touch you, don’t you.”

“Fuck Morgan, please,” she breathed out.

“Please what?” he applied the slightest bit of pressure before taking it away.

“Stop teasing me.”

“That’s no way to ask politely,” he slipped a finger along her core, but again only for a moment before taking it away again.

“_Morgan_.”

“What do you say?”

“_Please_ stop teasing me.”

Her voice was so whiny he almost went crazy right then and there. Instead of slipping his finger in, he separated her legs even more before moving down the bed and giving her a quick lick of his tongue. She gasped in response, her hips rising from the bed, and he used his strong arms to settle her down. He continued to lap and suck at her wetness and all she could do was let out a string of expletives and his name. She couldn’t form a coherent thought. Not when he was making her feel the way he was. She tried to grind against his tongue, but the pressure he was applying to her hips in keeping her down made her unsuccessful; truthfully, the sensation of being able to move only slightly and relying on her pleasure coming mostly from him and his actions was a complete turn on.

He worked at it long and hard. He was spoiling her completely and they both knew it. He was down there having the time of his fucking life, like he hadn’t eaten for days and he was absolutely starved. He was steadfast in his effort and completely dedicated to making her feel the best she could. She thought maybe he was a wizard with his tongue. Maybe he was a deity or something. Because the way he was making her feel, she could have sworn she was seeing stars. She gripped at his hair and let out haggard breaths, unable to last much longer.

“Mo…Mo I’m so close,” she said, her voice still whiny despite her throat so dry from the amount of moaning she was doing. “Morgan…_please_…”

“Are you gonna cum for me?” he mumbled into her folds.

“Y-Yes…” her breath hitched in her throat. “It f-feels s-so good Morgan.”

“Then cum all over my face, baby.”

She lost it. Completely, utterly lost it. She tried to grind her hips again, but he continued to pin her down, and she was done for. The feeling washed over her and she screamed his name, writhing as much as she could under his pressure, squeezing his head between her thighs. But he didn’t stop. He kept at it, continuing the feeling, and wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. She was losing count over how many. She lost herself completely.

Eventually it got to too much. There was pleasure and then there was overstimulation, and she felt like she was going to have a heart attack. She kept mumbling to stop, but she knew she wasn’t very convincing and he continued his actions. After one more wave of pleasure, she exerted enough pressure to lift her hips away from his pressure, squeezing her thighs around his head once more since his mouth _still_ hadn’t moved from her core. “Mo…Morgan _please_…I’m going to have a fucking heart attack,” she breathed out.

When he finally let go, she looked down to see his face absolutely _soaked_, and she realized she was the fucking luckiest girl _alive_. He came up and began kissing her, and she could taste herself on his lips.

“Briony,” he said in between kisses.

“Mhm?” she was still unable to speak from earlier.

“Can I confess something?”

“What’s that?”

“I can’t take it slow anymore.”

She knew exactly what he meant. It was her words he was using, after all. “Yeah,” was the only thing she could muster.

“I’m not saying I’m gonna post you all over my Instagram. Far from it, actually. I’ll probably be even more protective. But I can’t…I don’t want to _not_ put a label on this. You’re my girl. In every sense of the word, you’re my girl.”

She nodded her head. She was still feeling dizzy from earlier but she knew she wanted this. She knew this was something that was good for her. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes. Okay,” she nodded her head, bringing him down to kiss her again. Considering the situation, and considering she could still taste herself on his lips, she couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re doing this because I’m in a vulnerable state right now,” she giggled.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked nervously, pulling away slightly.

“You just sucked my soul out through my vagina and now you want me to call you my boyfriend. I see the game you’re playing.”

Morgan snorted. “Did you want me to _stop_ sucking your soul out of your vagina?”

“NO,” she said quickly, giving him a look. “Don’t you ever utter those words again, Mr. Rielly.” He let her flip him over easily so he was lying down and she was straddling him. She reached over to the top drawer of his bedside table and took out a condom. Even though she was on the pill, he appreciated the extra precaution. He raised his head slightly to put his face between her breasts, capturing a nipple in his mouth. She ripped the packaging open and slid the condom on delicately, pumping him a few times before she rolled it on.

She guided him to her entrance and lowered herself onto him slowly. Though this was far from the first time they’d had sex, she always took it slow to adjust to his size. She figured it stroked Morgan’s ego a little bit, but she really did have to do it. “Fuck Briony,” he mumbled as she began to rock back and forth slowly. He always called her by her full name during sex; it was part of what got her off quickly, she thought. “You always feel so good for me. So fucking good.”

She smiled as she increased her pace, developing a steady rhythm as she rocked back and forth. His hands were everywhere, but mostly on her hips, guiding them back and forth, or trailing up towards her breasts. He propped himself on his elbows, giving him a bit of height to kiss her again and have his face in her breasts while she continued to ride him. Eventually he pulled her down so her chest was flush with his as he pumped in and out of her.

“Oh _fuck_ Morgan,” she gasped, relishing the feeling. “Morgan…Morgan…”

“You like that, don’t you,” he mumbled before biting down on her neck lightly.

“_Harder_, Morgan.”

He practically growled, some sort of internal switch going off upon hearing her request. He wrapped his arm tightly around her body before flipping their bodies on the bed, so it was now her below him. He began pounding into her, burying his face into her neck, and between the pants, the moans, the screaming, and the squeaking of the bedframe from the sheer force, it wasn’t long before they both lost control. Briony came undone yet again, and even though it felt like the millionth time that night, it was just as good as the first – she wasn’t exactly complaining. Morgan, for his part, kept going for as long as he could, but the moment he felt her nails scratching his back, he was done for. Briony relished the feeling of him twitching inside of her, knowing that _she_ was the one who did that to him, that _she_ was the one who made him feel that way.

Morgan collapsed onto her gently, feeling completely spent, his cock still inside her as it softened. Her legs were still wrapped around his torso lazily. He felt like a blanket; a warm blanket completely enveloping her body, and she whimpered when he had to pull out and leave her to dispose of the condom.

When he finished, he cuddled back into her body, giving her a long, lingering kiss. “You’re fucking incredible. You know that?” his voice was worn out.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she chuckled slightly. “You make me feel so good, Morgan.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” he said, slipping a hand down in between them to feel her warm core. She jolted at the sensation, still so sensitive. “You’re always so fucking wet for me baby.”

“Always. Just for you,” she whispered.

“_Fuck_,” he kissed her again. “This road trip hasn’t even fucking started yet and I already want it to be over.”

Briony grumbled, upset at the reminder. She didn’t want to think about that right now. Morgan slipped his thigh in between her legs and she rubbed up against it briefly before he laid his head on her chest, just above her breasts. She began to play with his hair, running her fingers through it, before they both settled into a peaceful slumber.


	11. Chapter 10

“Can you sit still.”

“Don’t get it on my face!”

“That’s why my _other hand_ is on your face! So it gets on _my hand_ instead of _your face_!”

“Do I at least make a hot Eugene Levy?”

Bee couldn’t help but snort at Morgan’s question. She stopped spraying the black hairspray and took her hand off his forehead to see the full picture. She had turned his hair salt and pepper – a little more emphasis on the pepper – for his Halloween costume. He was going as Johnny Rose, and she as Moira Rose, from _Schitt’s Creek_. It was completely at her request. Morgan had wanted to first go as Batman and Robin, and she said that was too cliché. Then he suggested Wayne Gretzky and Jari Kurri, but Bee had no idea who Jari Kurri was, so she shot down that idea too. She first suggested Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy from _Pride and Prejudice_, but Morgan refused once he saw what he would have to wear. It was only then when she suggested Johnny and Moira from _Schitt’s Creek_, the show that they would watch together on Netflix. Morgan finally agreed. He’d practiced his facial expressions for weeks. Bee practiced Catherine O’Hara’s accent for just as long.

“At least I know you’d still look hot with dark hair,” she wiggled her eyebrows.

“Oh, well, _Briony_,” Morgan’s voice was bashful. He brought his hands up to the back of her thighs and ended up squeezing her ass quickly. “Maybe I should follow in Dermott’s footsteps and get some purple cornrows.”

“Please don’t,” she said curtly, causing him to laugh. “Let go of my butt. I need to get hairspray and work on your eyebrows.”

“Can you get it if I don’t let go of your butt?”

Bee snorted. “No. Now hands off, Mr. Rielly.”

*

Briony and Morgan had two parties to go to that night. First, they were stopping by Angie and Mason’s apartment, where they were throwing a small party with a bunch of their friends – mostly Mason’s PhD program friends and their significant others. After Angie and Mason’s, they would head to the Platinum Club at Scotiabank Arena, where the boys from the Leafs had organized the team Halloween party.

They walked hand in hand through the streets of the Annex until they got to 100 Spadina Road, Angie and Mason’s apartment building. After getting buzzed in and taking the elevator up to the 10th floor, Bee helped herself into the apartment, the party already in full swing. When Angie noticed them in the doorway, she screamed in the face of whomever she was speaking with and made her way over.

“You’re heeeeeeere!” Angie squealed as she hugged Bee tightly. When she pulled away, she looked down at Bee’s outfit. “And you are…?”

“Angela, stop acting like a disgruntled pelican,” Bee said in her best impression of Moira Rose she could muster.

“Oh my _God_ Bee!” she exclaimed. “It’s brilliant! _Brilliant_!” She focused her attention to Morgan, giving his costume a quick nod. “You must be Johnny, then.”

“I am,” he nodded his head. “But for the purposes of tonight, you can call me Morgan.”

“Well it’s nice to finally meet you, Morgan. Bee’s only mentioned you once or twice in the past few months,” she said sarcastically. “Come on, come in. Keep your shoes on. Let me introduce you to Mason.”

Angie dragged both of them through the apartment, bringing them to Mason, who was standing near the sliding door of the balcony talking with one of his friends. They were introduced briefly, as Mason seemed to be in deep in a serious conversation. Angie then brought them around to others, introducing them briefly. Alex and his partner Steve, who was getting his PhD in the history of the Toronto Purchase of 1787; Stacy, who was getting a PhD in the colonial history of Upper Canada, and her boyfriend Connor; Claire, who was in residency at Toronto General Hospital for neurosurgery; Gerry, doing post-doctoral research in…something? Sarah, who was getting his degree in…thermonuclear astrophysics? God, he couldn’t keep up. Morgan had never felt so inadequate in his life. He tried to understand their fields of study and he tried to understand their thesis work, but it was all going over his head. All he could do was offer a comment or two, or a quick nod of his head, and pretend to understand.

And then there was Briony. So engaged in their research, so informative _and_ informed about what they were doing. She knew the right questions to ask. She knew how to keep the conversation going about research. She knew exactly how to handle herself and there he was, standing there like a lump beside her. All he could do was sip on his beer. He didn’t contribute anything. He didn’t _have_ anything to contribute.

Hockey afforded him the luxury of travel; of lifelong friendships across Canada; of goals and hard work; of tenacity and determination to win; and much more. It did not afford him the luxury of schooling. It was just the way it was. They went to school but nothing was serious. He went to Notre Dame and excelled in math and science but he never thought once of pursuing it. When he moved to Moose Jaw and was placed in the local Catholic school he prayed every morning before homeroom, still excelling at math and science, but his mind was always on hockey. His homework was always done, and he always raised his hand in class to answer questions, but school wasn’t the priority. Hockey always was. Winning always was. Getting drafted always was.

Eventually Mason approached him and took him to get another beer. From their spot standing near the fridge, Morgan could hear Briony laugh and giggle while she took pictures with Angie and did her Moira Rose accent. He and Mason talked about a variety of random things, and despite Morgan knowing Mason was 150% smarter than him, he felt comfortable. They talked mostly about sports – football, the coming of Kawhi Leonard to the Raptors, and the Jays. The Leafs never came up. Morgan was partly thankful.

“So I heard you guys made it official a few weeks back,” Mason mentioned as he cracked open his third beer.

“Y-Yeah…” Morgan nodded. So they were going there. “How do you know?”

“Listen, Bee tells Angie _everything_,” he said. “Most things Angie then tells me, if they’re not too personal. Bee would have probably told me eventually, though.”

“Of course,” Morgan nodded again. He should have known. Angie and Bee were like glue, and they spoke in some form everyday. He should have figured Angie would be the first to know, and therefore Mason the second to know.

“Do your teammates know?” Mason asked.

With that question, Morgan knew Mason knew who he was. He appreciated that Mason wasn’t making a big deal out of it. “Yeah, they’ve met her. When she came to some of the games she met them, and then I had a few of them over for Thanksgiving,” he explained. “I actually think Enzo’s already in love with her.”

“Yeah, that’s easy with Bee. Especially if she cooked.”

“She did.”

“Well then,” Mason chuckled. “There you go.”

Morgan took a deep breath in. “So uh, what are you getting your PhD in?”

Mason gave him a look. “The Easter Rising in Ireland,” Mason responded. Morgan gave him a blank stare. “I don’t expect you to know what that is. Don’t worry.”

“Can you explain it to me?” Morgan asked.

“What?”

“Can you explain it?”

“It doesn’t exactly need to be common, everyday knowledge,” Mason countered.

Morgan sighed. “I know. But I feel like I’m the only one here who isn’t in grad school or getting a PhD,” he said, looking around awkwardly. “And to be completely honest with you, I feel…” he paused again, looking to see Briony wasn’t anywhere near him, “I feel inadequate when I talk to Briony and she brings up all the things she’s learning. I have no clue what she’s talking about but I just nod my head. I’ve tried to do research but…”

“Well if you want the gist of it, Bee’s learning how to how to invest money in various economic conditions and how to tell people where to invest their money so--”

“No no, I know that,” Morgan said. “I don’t get, like, the stuff she needs to learn _before_ she gets there. She had this massive assignment on behavioural economics and I saw her stress over it so much and it made me feel awful that I couldn’t help her.”

Mason couldn’t help but smile. “Well, even if you could have helped her, Bee wouldn’t have asked for it…or wanted it,” he commented. “You know her by now. She’s all about independence. She’s all about making it on her own. If you had a book of all the answers, or a definitive path she could follow to get an A, she wouldn’t read it. She’d just do it herself, her way.”

Morgan nodded his head. Mason was right. As someone who knew Bee for years, as opposed to Morgan’s few months, he knew the insight Mason had into Bee was much better than his. “I know. Still makes me feel like shit though.”

“Don’t let it get to you,” Mason soothed him. “Bee doesn’t expect that from you. If she did she would have left you by now.”

“That’s encouraging.”

“Morgan, I’m being serious. She doesn’t care about how smart a person is or what level of education they have. _Believe me_. Because we’ve met some pretty awful and disgusting people with Master’s and PhDs,” he said. “She’s old school. She cares about character. What you value in life. Hard work. All that stuff. If you have a PhD but you’re a dick, she’s gonna tell you off faster than if you have a high school diploma but a heart of gold.”

Morgan considered what Mason had to say seriously. He knew Mason was right. If Briony didn’t like him, if she thought he was inferior or not smart enough, she would have dumped or ghosted him by now. The fact that she was still there meant something. But the anxiety was still there.

“I’m afraid she’s going to wake up one day and realize she’s too good for me,” Morgan couldn’t stop talking. He had known Mason for all of an hour and was already revealing these insecurities to him. At this point he couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

“She won’t do that,” Mason shook his head. “You guys seem to be in this weird sort of relationship where you think she’s too good for you, but she thinks you’re too good for her, and somehow you’re in perfect harmony.”

_She_ thought _he_ was too good for _her_? _What in the world was she thinking?!_ Had she lost her damn mind? “She thinks _what_?”

Mason smiled mischievously. “You heard me. Must mean something.”

As if on cue, Morgan could feel her hand scratch up his back lightly to get his attention. He spun around to see her smiling, her cheeks flushed not by the ample amount of blush she had put on, but by the red wine she’d been drinking. “You ready to go? Ashley already texted me.”

“Yeah, of course. Let me get an Uber,” he nodded, even though what he really wanted to do was sit down over more beers with Mason and get to the bottom of what exactly Briony had told him about their relationship, or what Briony had told Angie who had then told Mason, or what Mason could have possibly overheard from a conversation between Angie and Briony about –

“Let me walk you to the door. I can’t believe you have to leave,” Angie’s voice, slightly drunk, interrupted his thoughts as she wrapped her arm around Briony’s shoulders. They walked to the apartment door together, coinciding with another couple that were just walking in.

Mason and Morgan had stayed back briefly so they were a few steps behind the girls. Mason nudged Morgan to get his attention. “Hey, is there a reason why you call her Briony all the time?”

Morgan shrugged his shoulders as he began to walk. “I just like the sound of Briony. It’s a beautiful name.”

“You’re the only one, you know. If we did that she’d smack us upside the head. Must mean something.”

Morgan chuckled. “I’ll see you soon, bud.”

*

When Morgan and Briony arrived at the Platinum Club, Tyler, dressed in a cowboy costume, greeted them enthusiastically. He was so excited and already drunk, and he picked up Briony and swung her around. His cheeks were flushed just as much as hers, and Morgan wondered how much alcohol everyone had already consumed. He was getting there, but not quite there yet.

“How’re you doing princess?” he asked.

“Pretty good, cowboy,” she giggled as she was set down. “What’s with the costume?”

“I’m from Edmonton, duh.”

“Aren’t all the cowboys in Calgary? You should have been an oil rig.”

Tyler rolled his eyes. “You’re too smart, you know that? Everyone else just believed me.”

As they made their way further into the room, Morgan could see the rest of the team and their significant others. The girls practically swarmed around Briony, and Briony – seemingly a little bit too tipsy to care about all the attention – greeted them with open arms. Soon enough, she started posing in selfies and group photos with them, and kept doing Moira’s accent. _“I had just had my eyelashes dyed. Everything was cloudy!”; “A heavy salad might as well be a casserole.”; __“The last time I felt this emotionally encumbered, I was playing Lady Macbeth on a Crystal Skies cruise ship during Shakespeare at Sea Week!"_ The girls were howling their heads off. Steph kept commenting how Briony sounded exactly like Moira. Christina Marleau had tears in her eyes. Morgan couldn’t help but look on admiringly.

“Hey! How come nobody is asking me to do my Eugene Levy impression?” Morgan joked, approaching the group of women. “I practiced for days!”

“I think we’re all a little freaked out by your eyebrows,” Steph laughed. “You sure did a number on them, Bee.”

“Besides, we all know Moira is the real star of the show,” Christina winked at him.

Morgan shrugged his shoulders. “Eh, you’re right. I’m gonna go get a beer,” he said, leaving the girls alone to find where Auston got his drink.

As Morgan hung out with Auston, Jake, and Fred, the alcohol kept flowing and the jokes kept coming. After leaving Briony with the other girls, he heard her accent every now and then, and he knew it meant she was having fun. She came back briefly so they could record a video on Steph’s phone to “commemorate” the night, but beyond that, she seemed to be having the time of her life with the girls. Morgan appreciated how they were so warm and welcoming, especially Ashley and Lucy, and he knew Briony appreciated it too. As an introvert, he knew the energy it must have been taking for Briony to socialize; but at the same time, he knew the alcohol was helping. Briony could have made the executive decision to stay the entire night at Angie and Mason’s party, but the fact that she agreed to come to this one too, with his friends, meant a lot. He’d have to thank her later.

The boys eventually moved on to some shots before going for what seemed like their tenth round of whisky. Auston was giggly, as he always got when he was drunk, and kept fiddling around with his costume. Jake, for his credit, seemed completely sober, but Morgan knew he was completely shit-faced. The boy couldn’t hold his liquor. Enzo had joined them, and he was just like Jake – completely shitfaced, but somehow able to keep it together. It was team bonding experiences like this that truly brought the boys together – seeing them at their most creative, but also, if drunk, at their absolute worst.

Late into the night Lucy approached Jake. “I’m just going to go to the washroom, but we should call a taxi soon,” she told her husband.

“Yeah, cool,” he said, maintaining composure. He was swaying side to side in beat with the music that was playing out of Mitch’s phone at this point, and watched as his wife walked to the washrooms in the back of the Platinum Club. He saw Bee across the room, talking with Aryne Tavares. He tapped Morgan on the chest. “It’s time.”

“Time for what?” Morgan was confused.

“Briony. Time for Briony.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Morgan should have known better – he really should have. Jake started to move to the music more than before. Morgan knew he liked to dance, especially with Lucy, but this was a different kind of dancing, with a different kind of beat. A song Morgan couldn’t recognize was playing in the background, and Jake couldn’t help but move his hips in tune to the music. As he did so, he moved closer and closer to Briony, who ended up being backed onto one of the plush chairs scattered about the room. She was laughing until she fell into the chair – then she knew what was coming next. She was going to die mortified. A drunken Jake Gardiner was going to give her a lap dance.

Jake took a few steps back before waltzing back towards her, blowing her a quick kiss. His hips continued to move with the beat of the music before turning around, placing his hands on the armrests, and practically sitting on her lap. From where she was sitting, she could hear Auston cackling loudly as he watched. Morgan was so red from laughing so hard she thought he was going to collapse right then and there. She assumed Jake had done this to others, and that his actions weren’t what they were laughing about – what they were laughing about was the horrified look on her face.

Jake continued his movements, turning to face her before he gyrated his hips once more. He untucked his shirt from his dress pants to move better, and unbuttoned the first three buttons, leaning over to shove his chest in Bee’s face. He reached out his hand and twisted some of her wig hair around his finger before giving her a kissy face. From out of the corner of her eye, Bee saw Auston approach Jake from behind and slip a fifty-dollar bill into the waistband of his pants. Tyler followed suit, slipping a twenty.

“I’m available for hire at parties,” Jake winked at her. “You just call me.”

“I’ll be sure to do that Jake.”

“Jake? Ja…**_GET AWAY FROM HER!_**” Lucy shrieked at her husband as she saw what he was doing. She ran over to them and pulled him away from the chair, an equally as horrified look on her face as there had been on Bee’s. Everybody was still losing their minds, even more so now at Lucy’s reaction. “_Ohmigodbeeiamsosorry_,” she rushed to apologize before slapping her husband on the arm. “How dare you! That poor girl!”

“She was enjoying herself! Who wouldn’t?” he motioned down to his body. “It’s Magic Mike! Everybody likes Magic Mike!”

“Jake William Gardiner you are drunk!” she screamed at him as she tugged him away. “I’m sorry again, Bee!”

“It’s alright!” she giggled out, waving goodbye to Jake as he was dragged away to the washrooms.

Bee watched as Morgan and Auston wiped the tears from their eyes. She collected her thoughts and her breath, a smile appearing on her face eventually after fully realizing what had just transpired.

Steph approached her first with tears in her eyes. “Getting a lap dance from Jake is like a rite of passage,” she snickered. “We’ve all gotten one at one point. You’re one of us now. This is like your welcoming party.”

Bee couldn’t help but laugh out loud. If a drunken lap dance from her boyfriend’s best friend was what inaugurated her into a group, then so be it.


	12. Chapter 11

For the first time in a while, Briony was happy.

It wasn’t that she was ever depressed. Most of the time, she was too busy and too driven to feel any other emotion besides determination. The need to get shit done without giving it much thought. She just didn’t have the luxury to feel anything else. Classes still stressed her out, she still hated marking first year undergraduate essays, and she was still poor as fuck. But she was happy. Unapologetically happy.

It was a combination of things. Morgan, obviously, played a pretty big role in it all. She didn’t think she could be this happy in a relationship, judging by her past ones, but it was possible with Morgan. She was doing well in her courses and maintaining a high GPA – she even aced that behavioural economics assignment – and her professors had agreed to be her references and put in a good word for her job applications to the “Big Five” banks. Mason’s various funding grants had been accepted, which meant his PhD was going to continue to be fully funded. Angie had gotten a promotion at Indigo head office, which meant she was pushing less paper and directing others to push the paper she was no longer pushing. Angie also moved up a pay grade, which was always nice. She’d finished watching _Schitt’s _Creek with Morgan and they had moved on to _Kim’s Convenience_. The Leafs were playing really well. Morgan had even set a new record for the best five game start by a defenseman in the modern era, passing Bobby Orr, and he was set to shatter all expectations this season. They had celebrated accordingly.

Everything just seemed to be working out.

Even tonight. It was a Wednesday but Bee had done enough schoolwork to be able to attend the Leafs game against the San Jose Sharks. She was glad she did, because the boys ended up winning 5-3, with John and Auston getting two goals each. The team had played really well, and although at some points it looked like the Sharks were going to catch up, Fred put up his wall.

After the final buzzer rang and the stars of the night were announced, fans began to file out of the arena. It became a routine for Bee to file out with the wives and wait in the employee area, near the locker room, where they boys would meet them. She followed Aryne and Christina as the continued to discuss her exam schedule, Christina making sure the Christmas party the Marleau family were hosting didn’t interfere with her schedule.

As Morgan drove through the streets of Toronto, on his now familiar route to Briony’s apartment before he’d turn around and go back to his, he kept her hand clasped in his and in his lap. He would look over to her at red lights, and she’d catch him and smile and laugh, embarrassed, but he’d just do it again at the next light. The Leafs were going on a roadtrip for a week, to Minnesota and Buffalo, so he wanted to make sure he got a good look at her before he left. Not that he didn’t look at her enough.

“Can you drop me off at the Metro at Spadina, actually?” she said as they passed College Street. “I need to pick up some groceries I ran out of.”

“Can’t wait till tomorrow?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I need milk for my coffee. You know how I think coffee is too bitter without milk.”

He smiled. He learned that early. She made fun of him for how much sugar he put in his, whereas she had weaned off it in the past year. “Okay, fine. I can wait for you.”

“No no no, you go home and you go to bed,” she said. “You need your rest. Metro is like a three minute walk from my apartment. I’ll be okay.”

“Briony.”

“I’ll be okay,” she repeated, squeezing his hand.

When Morgan finally got to Metro, he pulled up to the curb and put his car in park. Briony gathered her bag and made sure nothing fell out before looking at him. He leaned over the centre console, giving her light kisses. There were many, and only stopped when Briony began to giggle from all of them.

“I’m gonna see you tomorrow right? Before I leave for the road trip?”

“Of course,” she nodded her head, and Morgan leaned in for another kiss. And another. And another.

“I’m gonna go now,” Briony whispered in between one.

“No.”

She laughed, pulling away. “Bye Morgan.”

“One more.”

She digressed. She leaned in one more time and he kissed her, making sure his tongue grazed her bottom lip to leave her wanting more. When she pulled away, she slapped his forearm playfully. “Tease.”

“You’re one to talk.”

She gave him a look, opening the door before climbing out. “Drive safe,” she called before slamming it shut. He watched as she walked in, and watched until he couldn’t see her in the store anymore. Licking his lips, he put his car in drive.

*

As Morgan settled into his bedroom, he rushed to take off his suit and change into an old t-shirt he was using as his pajamas. He felt so lazy that he didn’t even hang his suit or fold his pants properly – he just left them flat on the chair before walking into his ensuite to brush his teeth lazily before bed. Eventually, he plugged in his phone, climbed into bed, and wrapped the covers around him.

He checked his phone one more time. His lock screen, a picture of Briony sitting on his lap as they both smiled at the camera, opened up to his background: a picture of him and Briony from the fall. They had gone for a walk in Trinity Bellwoods and had stopped under a tree to lay down for a bit. Her head was on his chest, her hair spread out on it, and his arm was around her tightly. It was their sleeping position almost every time they were in the same bed together (besides the traditional spooning), so it was no wonder that they ended up taking a quick nap under the tree. Sometimes he would catch himself staring at his phone just to look at the pictures.

After clearing all his notifications, he set his phone down on his bedside table and closed his eyes. With the hockey schedule in full swing, it didn’t take him long to fall asleep. His mind was just as tired as his body these days, and he found his eyes falling heavier and heavier with each passing second.

Until his phone rang.

He almost didn’t hear it; he almost thought it was a dream, but he eventually regained enough consciousness to realize it was blasting loudly. He grumbled, turning over to his side and grabbing to answer it. He didn’t bother looking at the caller ID because he knew the brightness of the screen would hurt his eyes. If it were Auston or any of the guys, he’d murder them.

“Hello?” he grumbled into the phone.

“M-M-M-Mo…” he heard Briony’s voice shake on the other end.

His eyes immediately went wide at the sound of her voice. Why was she calling so late at night? “Briony?”

“M-Mo…”

“Briony, what’s wrong?”

She sounded like she was hyperventilating but trying to hide it. “Mo, s-somebody broke into my ap-partment,” she hiccupped. “Somebody b-b-broke in and took all my st-stuff-f.”

Morgan shot up from his bed and threw the covers off his body. “Have you called the police?”

“M-M-Mo, they took my laptop. They took my j-j-jewellery box. T-T-They t-t-took --”

“Briony, did you call the police?” he asked more firmly. His heart was running a mile a minute now.

“Y-Yes,” her voice continued to shake. “M-Mo…they took _everything_. Even my _clothes_.”

Holy shit. Holy _shit_. He rushed to throw on a hoodie he left on his chair and struggled to put on a pair of track pants without falling over. “I’m on my way,” he said quickly. “Are the cops coming?”

He heard her breath hitch in her throat a few times. “M-Mo…”

“Did the cops say they were on their way?”

“Y-Y-Yeah, they’ve sent s-someone and he’s j-j-just out-tside now.”

“Okay, I’ll be there in five,” he said, grabbing his keys and slamming the door behind him. “Do you want to stay on the phone with me?”

“M-M-Mo, what am I gonna do?” she cried. “Th-They stole _everything_. My front window is b-broken a-a-and I d-d-don’t know --”

“Briony it’s going to be okay,” he assured her.

“N-No it’s-s-s n-not.”

“Yes it is. I’m on my way.”

*

Morgan was sure he sped through the streets, probably even ran a couple of red lights, because he made it up to the Annex in record time. By the time he got to her apartment, there was already a cop car with its lights flashing outside. He didn’t even attempt to park his car; he practically left it in the middle of street, behind the cop car, and rushed towards the front door. He noticed the front bay window completely smashed, glass all over the front lawn.

When he opened the door to her apartment, like he had so many times before, he saw her standing with the police officer. She immediately turned her head the second she heard the door open and when she realized it was him, ran towards him. “Morgan!”

She clung on to him for dear life. She began crying again as she buried her head in his chest. It was only then when he noticed the state of the apartment – broken glass near the window; all drawers open or literally taken out of the slot and thrown half way across the room; mud all over the floor from muddy boots; her kitchen cabinets open and her food thrown everywhere. It looked like a tornado passed through. There were two other people in the apartment that looked like they were dusting for prints. “Are you hurt?” he asked. She shook her head. “Did you see them?” Another head shake.

He noticed the police officer approach him. “My guess is you are the boyfriend.”

“Yes sir.”

“Ms. McTavish mentioned you stay over sometimes. Do you keep any valuables at the apartment?”

Morgan shook his head. “No sir. I…what happened?” Briony had pulled away and was wiping the tears on her cheeks with the back of her hand. “What happened?” he asked her directly.

“W-When I c-c-came back from the g-grocery store I noticed the w-w-window, and I ran inside and I s-saw th-th-this,” she stuttered out. “I d-d-don’t…I d-don’t know…”

“We are assuming it happened during the period she was absent from the residence,” the police officer said. “I’ll just need to finish writing Ms. McTavish’s statement and record a list of all her belongings that were stolen.”

“Yeah, of course,” Morgan said, grabbing at Briony’s hand. He looked around again to see more mess. Her covers thrown off her bed, even the mattress protector gone – clearly whoever did this was banking on the old ‘keep your money under the bed’ trick; her fridge door wide open, contents again spewed all over the floor. He was feeling more and more sick the more he took in. He couldn’t imagine how violated Briony must be feeling.

“My l-l-laptop is the b-biggest thing,” she began. “A-And they t-t-took my c-clothes. Almost all my c-clothes.”

“Were there any items of significant value?”

She shook her head vehemently. “And then my j-jewellery box.”

“Again, any items of significant value? Family heirlooms?”

“No.”

Morgan knew Briony didn’t have much, and he knew she didn’t spend much, but his heart broke when she had to give the officer an itemized list of all the clothes and pieces of jewellery that were stolen and how much she had paid for them. He had $200 dollar shirts and custom suits hanging in his closet, and he didn’t think he’d ever heard Briony go above $30 for how much she spent on something. The fact that she could even give the officer an itemized list of every piece of clothing and every little piece of jewellery she had meant something. It meant she knew exactly what she owned – however little it was – and she kept tabs on it all. He wasn’t even sure about that. He didn’t really keep tabs on things like he should. If the same thing ever happened to him, he wouldn’t be able to give an accurate number or descriptions. He could remember some prices of significance, like his $8000 watch or the general ballpark he paid for all his pairs of Jordan shoes, but he could never be specific like she was doing.

“Okay Ms. McTavish. I’ve already made the call for the crew to come to board up the front window and I’m going to be putting a heavy padlock on your apartment door. Do you have a place you can stay tonight?”

“Yes, absolutely,” Morgan answered for her quickly.

“Okay. Once the boards are up I’ll file your report and statement. I’m also going to ask your neighbours if they saw or heard any suspicious activity. I suggest you take whatever belongings you can for now, anything of value or significance that perhaps the intruder didn’t take, and I will call you tomorrow to discuss your options,” the officer informed her.

“W-What about my stuff?”

“Pardon me?”

“M-My belongings. What’s gonna happen with finding my s-stuff?”

The officer gave her a concerned look. He looked at Morgan briefly too before taking a deep breath. “Ms. McTavish, there’s really nothing further we can do unless we find the culprit. Usually in these situations the culprit keeps the items or sells them for any value, if they are even of any value. We can look at local pawn businesses in the area, but…”

“So my stuff is just gone again.”

The officer nodded his head once, his face still concerned. “I will try my hardest. Maybe I’ll look in some of the electronic shops for your laptop, but I really can’t guarantee anything.”

The only things left to salvage were Briony’s books. Because of course the thief didn’t take the fucking books. The officer waited for them as she moved in a complete daze around her apartment – no more tears, but her face still stained with them, and with an aura of fear about her. Morgan could see her hands trembling as she grabbed at her textbooks, the ones she was using this semester in particular, and handed them to Morgan. She then looked at her small half bookshelf of only two rows, with all the fiction books she had accumulated from various book sales – the book sales she told Morgan about in one of their first conversations – and looked at him. “Will this fit in your car?” her voice trembling as much as her hands.

“Of course. What else do you want to grab?”

“That’s it.”

“Briony --”

“I want to go now.”

“B--”

“Please, Morgan. I don’t want to be here anymore. _Please_.”

“Come here. Come here,” he outstretched his arms to her, and she began crying again as she nestled into his hug and buried her face in his chest. “It’s gonna be okay baby.”

“Can we p-p-please just g-grab my b-b-books and g-go,” she mumbled into his chest. “There’s nothing else, M-Morgan. N-N-Nothing else is-s-s mine. It all came with the apartment.”

He nodded his head, moving to give her the textbooks she had handed to him. He bent at the knees and picked up the bookshelf easily, all the books still in it. He looked at the officer. “We’re done. You can lock it up.”

The officer nodded his head. “Alright then. You stay safe. I will call you tomorrow for further information.” He locked up the door with a padlock as they left, and waited for the crew to arrive to put up the wood boards on the broken windows.

Morgan carried the bookshelf and placed it into the trunk of his car. Briony, still clutching her textbooks, climbed into the front seat. When he climbed in and started the car, he looked over at her. Her cheeks were fresh with tears, her winter jacket haphazardly put on. He reached over the centre console and grabbed her hand, bringing it up to his lips and kissing it. “It’s going to be okay, Briony.”

She tucked her knees into chest as he drove away from her apartment, her textbooks where her feet were supposed to be. She looked out the window, tears still streaming down her face occasionally. As the city streets passed by her, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of emptiness within her; an emptiness that felt all too familiar. An emptiness that seemed to follow her for her entire life. She came from nothing, and now she had nothing. She could accumulate, she could amass, but she would always end up empty. The emptiness was not a new feeling, but it didn’t hurt any less just because she had felt it before. It hurt more now because she knew how it felt to be full.

Everything was a blur until she climbed into bed. She knew at some point they arrived at his apartment, and they got out of the car and took the elevator to his place, but she didn’t remember. She didn’t remember anything until she got into bed and practically wrapped her body around Morgan’s to feel any semblance of safety. Despite the cold outside and the cold in her body, he felt so warm and so full, and she wanted desperately to feel that too. She knew she wouldn’t – not anytime soon – but it was worth a try. If she couldn’t have it, she could at least feel it.

“Briony…” Morgan’s voice was soft as he wrapped his arms around her, placing light kisses on her forehead and the crown of her head. “Briony, look at me. Please.” She pulled away only slightly, enough to get a look at his face. Her eyes were red and puffy still from all the tears. “I need to know what happened in your childhood now,” he said.

She shook her head. “No.”

“You said ‘So my stuff is just gone _again_’ to the police officer.”

“Morgan.”

“Briony, please. _Please_.”

Tears welled up in her eyes again. “I th-thought I was finally safe,” she hiccupped again, still shaking slightly as Morgan held on to her.

“What do you mean?”

“Th-Th-This happened all the time as a k-kid. All the t-t-time,” she revealed finally, wiping a stray tear away. “Esp-p-pecially when we were between places. Or at the homeless sh-shelt-t-ters. And they’d t-take all my mom’s s-s-stuff. They’d take m-my st-stuff too. Anything they thought was of value. Th-That’s why I always ended up w-with n-n-nothing. And that’s w-why _we’d_ always end up with n-nothing. I was always s-so s-s-scared. We’d always have to st-start from s-s-scratch.”

_In-between places. Homeless shelters. They’d take my stuff._ _Starting from scratch. _Morgan felt sick to his stomach. This had happened to her before. _Often_. As a fucking _child_. As a _child_ with an alcoholic mother who had no will to protect her. With a mother who had no will to attempt to make their situation better. How somebody could create that environment for a child; how someone could be complacent in making a child that scared; how someone could not care about their child to that degree, Morgan would never be able to understand.

“You don’t have to be scared anymore,” Morgan said. “You’re safe with me. You don’t have to worry.”

“She’d never t-tell me everything was going to be okay because sh-she knew it was never going to be ok-kay,” Briony continued, and Morgan knew she was talking about her mother. “And when I finally l-left I thought everything was going to be okay.”

“I’ve got you now. I’m here for you now. It’s going to be okay.”

“N-No it’s n-n-not,” she shook her head, unable to believe him. “M-My laptop’s gone, I have no c-clothes, I didn’t even have m-m-much to begin with and now I have n-nothing again and-d- I --”

“Briony, no, no,” Morgan repeated, squeezing her tighter. “You have me. You have me. You don’t have nothing, you have me. I don’t want you going through this alone. You _can’t_ go through this alone. Because you’re not alone anymore.”

She buried her face in his chest again, unable to cope with his words as tears streamed down her face. There was too much emptiness, too much pain. She could only cry herself to sleep, and Morgan, heartbroken, could only listen, his heart breaking with each passing sob, each passing tear he felt wash his skin, each passing tremble of her body.


	13. Chapter 12

Morgan called Angie and Mason first. He knew he had to for how close they were with Briony. Angie didn’t recognize his voice at first. She gave him shit for calling so early despite her having to be up for work. He explained what had happened. She asked for directions to his apartment, said she would call in sick, and that she would be right over.

Then he called John Tavares. He didn’t know why, but it was the number he dialled on instinct. They had become close since his move to Toronto. Plus he knew how much Briony liked Aryne. Aryne picked up the phone, surprised that Morgan was calling so early. When he explained the situation, she said she and John would be right over.

Then he called Jake Gardiner. He was up feeding Henry, giving Lucy a morning to sleep in. When Morgan told him what had happened, he said he’d wake up Lucy and they’d be right over.

Then he called Nazem Kadri. Ashley answered. Morgan explained. She said she’d gather some spare clothes and be right over.

Morgan still felt sick to his stomach. It wasn’t because any material things of Briony’s were gone – any and all could be replaced easily – and it wasn’t because he barely slept last night, having to comfort her as she continued to cry throughout the night and cling desperately onto him and his body as if he’d float away. What he felt sick to his stomach about was how Briony must be feeling: violated, distraught, broken. Nobody should be made to feel that way. And to think that she felt this way for sixteen years of her life – the sixteen that she spent with her mother – made him absolutely repulsed. She had created a world for herself, all on her own, where she had felt safe, and now that had been ruined. It was obvious that if this had happened in the past, she was able to pick herself up and continue on, but after feeling safe for so long – especially having created her own safety – this invasion would sting.

He wasn’t aware that she had woken up and was vaguely listening to the conversations he was having on the phone. She drifted in and out of consciousness, but what was undeniable from his whispers was the concern in his voice. She waited until he was finished with his last phone call until she rolled over slightly and grazed her fingertips up his back.

At her touch, he jumped slightly and looked behind him. Her eyes were still puffy and red from the crying she had done, and the general lack of sleep throughout the night. She still looked beautiful. “Hey Bumblebee,” he whispered.

At the sound of her nickname, she completely melted. “Come here.”

He did as he was told, lying down and curling into her body into his as she attached herself onto him again. She took in his scent as he ran his fingers through her hair. “You called everybody?”

He nodded his head, pulling away from her slightly so he could look her in the eye. “I called Angie, Aryne, Lucy, and Ashley.”

“You shouldn’t have bothered them.”

He furrowed his brows. “You got everything stolen from you. Asking friends for help is not bothering them.”

She sighed deeply. She _felt_ like she was bothering them. This was her problem, her issue to solve and hers alone. She didn’t want to drag people into it, especially people who were already busy living their own lives and providing for their own families. “I think I’m gonna go take a shower,” she said, not wanting to think about it anymore.

“Okay,” he agreed, figuring he would be the one to greet everyone at the door anyway. He noticed that neither of them had made any effort to untangle themselves from each other’s bodies. “It’s gonna be okay, Bumblebee.”

“I love it when you call me that,” she whispered.

He smiled slightly. “Be careful what you wish for. I’ll call you that until the end of time if you let me.”

The small smile that appeared on her face restored his faith a little bit. She finally pulled away and rolled out of bed, stretching before making her way to the washroom. He watched her movements until she closed the door, and, figuring he would give her some privacy, went to go use the washroom in the spare bedroom instead. When he came back into his room to change, the shower was already running.

His phone began buzzing, meaning someone was trying to get in. He blindly clicked to let them in, opening his door slightly so they could just come in. He expected Naz and Ashley to show up first, only because they lived closest to him, so he was shocked when he saw _everybody_ file through the door all at once.

“Where is she?” Angie demanded.

“She’s taking a shower,” he nodded towards the bedrooms. “Master is the second door,” he guided her as she marched through his apartment straight to his bedroom. He noticed everybody else file in; Lucy had Henry in a carrier against her body, and Ashley had a weekend bag with her, presumably filled with clothes.

“Does she have a change of clothes?”

“She’s got a good winter jacket, right?”

“Her wallet and important stuff is safe and secure, right?”

The girls’ questions bombarded Morgan all at once. He was unsure which one to address first, and he must have had an overwhelmed look on his face, because there was a moment of silence of the girls waiting for answers where Jake piped up and asked simply, “Is she okay?”

_That_ he could answer. “She seems to be doing okay,” he said. “I mean, she’s obviously pretty torn up about it. She cried most of the night. But this morning she seemed to be doing better.” He debated whether or not to share with them what she had told him last night, but he figured it would give them at least some context to understand the situation. “This isn’t the first time this has happened to her.”

“Not the first time?” Naz asked.

“Childhood stuff,” Morgan clarified briefly. “She grew up with an alcoholic mother.” All the girls nodded their heads, but this was the first time the guys had heard anything about it. “She uh…she moved around a lot. In and out of homeless shelters for some parts.”

“Geeze,” Naz sighed, shaking his head.

“I’m going in there,” Aryne resolved, shaking her head and taking off her shoes. “I don’t care if she’s stark naked.”

“Me too,” Ashley picked up her weekender bag and followed Aryne.

“Take Henry,” Lucy said to Jake, who was already reaching for his son. He cradled him against his body as Lucy followed the girls to Morgan’s bedroom.

*

When Aryne, Lucy, and Ashley entered Morgan’s bedroom, they were met with Angie and Briony face to face on the bed. Briony was in a robe, her hair twisted in a towel. They all went up to her and gave her long, drawn out hugs, asking if she was okay and how she was feeling.

“It’s nice of you guys to be here, but you don’t have to be,” she said, settling back down onto the bed. Angie moved to make room for the rest of the women, who chose their own spots around her. “I mean, you guys are so busy…and _pregnant_. Or with a _baby_. I shouldn’t even be on your radar. I’m the least of your worries.”

“Yes we _do_ need to be here,” Ashley said definitively. “You’re our friend Bee. What kind of friends would _we_ be if we weren’t here for you?”

Briony shook her head, tears threatening to fall again. “I’ve just…whenever this has happened in the past, with my mom or whatever, I was never able to rely on the benevolence of others,” she admitted. “This is all really new to me. It’s horrible to say, but it is.”

“Well, we’re here for you,” Lucy said. “And we’re ready to help in whatever way we can. You name it, we’ll do it.”

“When you lived with your mom you didn’t have anyone else, but now you have us, Bee,” Angie said, the other girls nodding their heads. “You don’t have to go through this alone. And there are four big burly hockey players out there willing to help too.”

“I don’t even know where to begin,” Briony admitted. “They took my laptop, they took my clothes…I’m gonna have to replace those first, I guess.” She thought about having to dip into the meagre savings she had to recover those items and it made her ill. “I’m gonna have to find a new place to live. I don’t know how to proceed. I just know I don’t want to go back there, ever. It’s tainted now.”

“That’s understandable,” Lucy commented.

“But I don’t…I don’t know. The boys are going on a road trip tomorrow and they’re going to be gone for a week, and I don’t want to be alone.”

“Well, that’s easy. You can stay with me,” Aryne said immediately.

Tears immediately welled up in Briony’s eyes. Aryne said it so easily, so simply, like it was an automatic reaction, and Briony couldn’t handle it. “Aryne, I couldn’t.”

“Of course you could! I know we’re in High Park but I can drive you to school for classes or exams and pick you up --”

“Aryne, no,” Briony shook her head. “No, I can’t, I can’t. I can’t --”

“Briony--”

“Aryne, there’s no way I could put you out like that. And you’re pregnant. I--”

There was no way Aryne would take no for an answer. No way. She leaned forward placed her hands on Briony’s forearms, and said, “You can stay with me. I have room for you.” It was the first time those words were said so definitively, so conclusively to Briony. She began tearing up and finally nodded her head. Aryne pulled her in for a long hug. “I’m sure you will find a place soon, okay? But while Morgan is out of town you can stay with me.”

“Then I’ll bring you shopping,” Lucy piped up. “You’re gonna need some nice clothes…casual _and_ professional, since you’re going to be graduating and working at a bank soon. We’ll start after your class tomorrow, when the boys leave for Minnesota.”

At this point Briony was too emotionally tortured to say no. These women were helping her – willingly helping her – was she really going to deny the help? She’d consider and work out the logistics later. All she knew was that these women were angels. Literal angels sent down from heaven to her to help her.

“C’mon, let’s go and see the boys,” Angie suggested, holding her hand. “I’m sure they want to see you and make sure you’re okay.”

When they made their way out of the bedroom and into the main living area, Briony received hugs from all the guys. She could tell they had been talking amongst themselves about the situation from the looks on their faces. She generally hated the looks of pity she got, and this was no exception. It would be hard to accept it, she thought.

She made her way over to Morgan and leaned on the side of the couch with him. “Thanks for coming. But like I said to the girls, you don’t need to be here.”

“Uh, yes we do,” Jake said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“We can go back to your place to pick up anything else you might have left behind last night,” John said, his voice ever so serious. “Morgan mentioned you only brought your books. Is there anything else you want us to get?”

Briony shook her head. “There’s nothing else besides old textbooks. Everything else was stolen or is property of the landlord.”

“Okay, well, we’ll go pick up the textbooks,” Naz concluded. “You guys can chill out here. We’ll even bring back some breakfast.”

“You guys don’t need to do that,” she said as an automatic reaction. She was too emotionally tired to put in more energy into a rejection of help.

“Yes we do,” Jake repeated his earlier sentiment as he got up from his seat on the couch. “It’s the _least_ we could do, because you’re definitely not going back there.”

*

“Are you guys good?” Ashley asked into her phone as she spoke to Morgan. She was waiting outside of the dressing room area at the Gap where she had taken Briony first. “You guys land okay?”

“Yeah, we’re fine,” Morgan said absent-mindedly. “How’s Briony?”

“We’re in the Gap. She’s trying on pants right now,” she said, running her thumb over Morgan’s name on the credit card she was holding in her other hand. He’d given it to her discreetly when she dropped off Naz. He’d given her the pin number and strict instructions to use it at all times. Briony, of course, had no idea.

“Ash…” Morgan started hesitantly. “Make sure she goes crazy, okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“Just…you know. Make sure it’s nice stuff,” he couldn’t find the words. “Don’t make her get cheap stuff cause she wants to keep everything under one hundred dollars or whatever.”

Ashley couldn’t help but giggle. A man’s version of ‘go crazy’ and a woman’s version of ‘go crazy’ were two very different things. “Mo…you gotta give me some parameters. I can go crazy, but I can _go crazy_,” she said. “Like, can I buy her a head-to-toe Gucci outfit? Yves Saint Laurent? A Valentino bag?”

“Yes, but she’d never go for all that. Convince her she should, please. Then go to Queen Street West or wherever else so she doesn’t feel too bougie.”

At the finish of his sentence, Ashley noticed Aryne and Lucy approaching her, each with at least six or seven hangers of more clothes or jeans to bring to Briony in the dressing room. “You don’t worry your pretty little head. I’ve got this,” Ashley said into the phone before hanging up.

She walked with the girls to see Briony already out of the dressing room, looking at herself in the mirror with a pair of cropped pants on. When she saw the girls in the reflection, she spun around. “I don’t think a pair of pants has ever fit me this well,” she admitted.

“Good!” Lucy exclaimed, handing her some pairs of jeans. “Try those on too. They’re all size 12 like you asked for. They’re gonna make your ass look great.”

“Gap jeans are expensive, though…” Briony cautioned, only to herself. These women in front of her probably thought Gap jeans were cheap. “I…I couldn’t…”

“Are you going to say no to a pregnant lady?” Ashley asked facetiously. She then pointed to Aryne’s growing belly. “To _two_ pregnant ladies? I don’t think so.” Lucy shoved the rest of her jean selection towards Briony with a smile on her face.

That was Ashley’s line for a majority of the day. ‘_Are you going to say no to two pregnant ladies?’_ Briony accumulated _many_ bags as the ladies spent their time inside of Yorkdale Shopping Centre. When it would become too much to carry, they’d just go back to Aryne’s car in the underground parking, unload everything into her trunk, and then start again. A few hours into shopping, Briony was feeling a bit overwhelmed. She knew she was building up her wardrobe again, but she couldn’t help but continue to calculate the cost of everything in her head. She almost felt like the girls were being _too_ generous. She’d look at the price tags on jeans or tops and get anxiety about it. When Briony brought up paying them back they wouldn’t hear any of it. Ashley even said to her, “If I see any money or a cheque in your hand – hell if I even so much as see a _nickel_ – I’m gonna burn it. Don’t you even think about it.”

They even pulled her into the designer shops – Gucci, Mulberry, Burberry, Chloe, Valentino, Saint Laurent – and put down their credit cards without a second thought. Even at the Apple Store, where Lucy insisted Bee had to get a new Macbook, she didn’t even think twice when the polite salesperson told her the price of the laptop. She just nodded her head, asked for the rose gold model, presented him with the card, and it was all done. Briony was scared that she was going to wake up and it would all be a dream.

As they grabbed some Starbucks and took a break, Briony overheard the girls talking as she approached the table, and she realized they were making more plans for tomorrow and beyond. _‘We should bring her to Yorkville tomorrow! The stock is always different in Yorkville. Angie can come too so it’ll be a great girls day.’_ _‘Yeah, of course. But when is gonna be the relaxation day? We should book the spa soon. Manis, pedis, massages, the whole thing. She deserves it.’ ‘I can call the Four Seasons tomorrow. Or should we go to Stillwater?’_ As Briony set her drink down on the table, she tried to smile. She still felt overwhelmed by the day, and the fact she was in this situation in the first place. She needed to remember that despite all the shopping, she currently didn’t have a place to live. She’d have to call her landlord and break her lease. God knows how much money he would charge her for that.

“Are you okay?” Lucy’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “I know it’s been a long day…”

“Yeah. Sorry,” Briony shook her head. She really _was_ grateful for everything that was happening, but so many thoughts occupied her head and she didn’t know how to control them all. “It’s just…I’m grateful for all of this, I really am. This entire day has been beyond my wildest dreams. But…I can’t help but think that I’m shopping, but what I _should_ be doing is finding a place,” she said, shaking her head. “I have to make sure rent isn’t too expensive, that it’s close to school…”

“Are you going to look for a building now as opposed to a house?” Lucy asked.

“That would be ideal, but I don’t know if I’d be able to afford it,” Briony admitted. “Units in houses are generally cheaper. I mean I could downsize. I don’t need all the space I have now. I could go smaller…”

“But Mo said you had a bachelor apartment in the house,” Lucy said.

“I did.”

Lucy gave her a look. “Well, what matters most is safety. As long as you feel safe…”

“You can start searching for listings on your brand new laptop tonight,” Aryne smiled.

“Oh my God, _wait_,” Ashley said loudly, stopping all conversation. “Oh my God,” she repeated, taking out her phone and dialling a number. She rose from her seat. “I’m gonna be right back,” she left the table abruptly.

Aryne giggled. “What was that about?”

“Who cares,” Lucy rolled her eyes playfully. “There’s one more place we need to bring you after we finish these drinks.”

“Where?” Briony asked. Could there be even _more_ stores?

“We’ve got to go to a place where you can…you know, _surprise_ Morgan,” Lucy wiggled her eyebrows, a Cheshire cat grin appearing on her face.

For a moment, Briony was shocked. She let out a hearty laugh. “Oh my _God_ Lucy.”

“What!” she took exception. There was no reason to be prude. “I think you’d look great in some black lace, personally.”

“Lucy.”

“And a little red. Every guy like some red,” Aryne chimed in.

“Not you too!”

“Come on! Listen, even if you don’t buy it for Morgan, you should buy it for _you_,” Lucy encouraged. “Walking around with a set of sexy lingerie on underneath your clothes is so fucking empowering! It makes you feel like the most confident woman in the room. Believe me.”

“Has Morgan ever told you what he likes?” Aryne asked.

“No. It’s never really come up,” Briony admitted. It never came up, probably because he understood she was too poor for lingerie. Whatever bra and underwear she had on seemed to do. He never had any complaints.

“Well, we’ll start with black and see what else is there,” Lucy offered. “Black is the go-to. When Morgan sees you in it he’ll die.”

“So I’m planning to kill my boyfriend via lingerie,” Briony joked.

“Not kill…just control,” Lucy winked. “Trust me. He sees you once in some black lace, you can get him to do _whatever_ you want.”

*

It was during a pit stop at the washroom when Briony got a phone call from Naz. She was waiting for the girls on a bench outside the washroom, and she wasn’t exactly expecting to hear from him. She knew he had her number, but wasn’t sure why he would be calling her when they had a game that night.

“I can’t believe I didn’t think of this earlier, but I need to talk to you about something. About where you’re going to live,” Naz said.

Briony’s body stiffened. “Uh, okay…”

“Listen. Ash and I have invested in some condos around Toronto. We have a place in Yorkville, at Bay and St. Mary Street,” he said. Briony immediately knew that was near St. Michael’s College.

“Okay…”

“Anyway, it’s a nice place. It’s got two bedrooms, it’s got floor to ceiling windows…the whole thing. It’s right on the subway line. We’ve even furnished it. Kitchen’s fully stocked. And the tenants we have in there now are moving out--”

“Nazem, no,” Briony said immediately. She knew exactly where this was going.

“Listen, the tenants are moving out and it’s gonna be empty. It would be perfect for you. Isn’t that near your campus?”

“No no no no,” she kept repeating.

“It’s not near U of T?”

“No – it is – it’s – ugh,” she grimaced, tears threatening to spill from her eyes again. At this point she was basically a well. “How much do you usually rent it out for?”

“Well right now the tenants are paying three grand a month,” he said.

Briony shook her head vehemently. “Naz, I can’t.”

“Bee --”

“Two months in rent _alone_ eats into my savings --”

“Bee, you don’t actually think you’re going to pay rent, do you?”

She couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. “What do you mean _‘you don’t actually think you’re going to pay rent’_? Everybody pays rent, Naz.”

“Not you. And not while I’m renting it to you.”

“Naz!”

“Get out of here, Briony.”

“Naz, _NO_. No,” she kept up the rejection. “Naz, I couldn’t do that to you and Ashley.”

“Do what? Live in a safe place and save your money? Keep a place in good shape instead of us renting to people we don’t know who might trash it?” he asked.

“Did Morgan put you up to this?” she asked, tears already falling down her face. There was no attempt to hold them back anymore, and really, no reason to. She was crying in front of everyone these days; she may as well start crying on Morgan’s teammates on the phone and in front of random people in a mall. “Be honest. Did Morgan, like, force you to do this?”

“Oh, so now you think I can’t be a nice person.”

“It’s not that at all!” she exclaimed. “Your wife just dropped like ten grand on clothes for me _insisting_ I get designer stuff and now you’re saying I can live in a place you own for free? People don’t _do_ shit like this, Naz! People don’t…people don’t just _do_ this stuff out of the goodness of their hearts! They do it because they want something in return sometime down the line and I have _nothing_ to offer or pay you back with. Like I don’t think you understand. I have absolutely _nothing_.”

“Girl, you need to stop thinking that Ash and I are gonna expect something from you because we’re helping you,” he responded. “I know you had a fucked up childhood and I know you weren’t always surrounded with the best people, but you are now. I’m not saying we’re saints, but we’re decent people. We look after our friends. We make sure they’re okay, and they’re safe.”

Briony couldn’t help but keep crying. There were no words left on her end; she was done battling everybody. How was she to believe everyone around her now was doing this out of the goodness of their hearts when her whole life previous to this proved people acted otherwise? “I don’t have the energy to say no anymore,” she mumbled out.

“Then don’t,” Naz said, as if it was so simple. As if accepting help from people was something she did everyday. “The tenants are moving out December 6th. After we get it cleaned, you can move right in. It can at least be a place to tie you over during your last weeks of school, your exams, and until you get a job and start earning decent money.”

There was no point in saying no anymore, because they would just convince her otherwise. There was no point in denying all these new faces around her the opportunity to help her get back on her feet. There was no point in refusing help from people who were so readily able to give it; from people who expected zero in return.

“Okay, fine. Okay.”

*

Briony tried to recognize herself in the mirror as she waited for Morgan and John to get home. She was wearing some of her new clothes – a pair of jeans from the Gap that hugged at her curves, a plain t-shirt from Forever 21 that she begged the girls to buy so it would make her feel normal again. The girls had taken her to the spa at the Four Seasons a few days ago, and she was completely pampered from head to toe the entire day. She got a haircut – her first in maybe 18 months. She got her first ever manicure and pedicure and had a blush coloured shellac on her nails. She got waxed, a facial, a coffee and maple sugar body scrub, and a massage. She couldn’t believe rich people lived like this.

She felt like a new woman. In some ways, she was.

When she heard quick, heavy footsteps making their way up the stairs, she knew it was Morgan and that the boys were home. He opened the bedroom door without pretence or warning. When he saw her standing near the mirror, he closed the door and made his way over to her.

“Hey baby,” he said, pulling her into a giant hug. He buried his head into the crook of her neck, taking in her scent that he had become accustomed to so quickly. His hands moved underneath her t-shirt to touch her skin, and she melted into his touch. He pulled away slightly to give her a quick kiss. “I’m so glad I’m back.”

“I missed you,” she admitted out loud, the first time she had done so since he started his hockey schedule.

“I missed you too,” he admitted. “How was the week?”

Briony shrugged her shoulders. “It was overwhelming.”

He furrowed his brows. “Why?”

“A lot of money was spent, and I’m not used to that,” she said. “I mean…” she motioned to all of the bags taking up a corner of the guest room.

“You deserve it. You deserve to have nice things.”

“Do I?”

Morgan looked at her expressionless. He bent down and kissed her again, a long, drawn out kiss that made her week at the knees. When he let go, he squeezed at the flesh his hands were attached to. “Of course you do,” he said definitively. “Why can’t you see that?”

She didn’t want to answer that question. “Can we go back to your place, please?” she asked. “I just want you to hold me.”

They said goodbye to Aryne and John, leaving the vast majority of her new clothes there except for a few items. Aryne had already called and arranged for a crew to come help with the move into Naz and Ashley’s apartment that would happen in about a week, while Morgan and the team were on another long ten-day road trip.

When they arrived back at his place, Briony attached herself to Morgan once more, and he carried her to bed. She wanted so desperately to feel him; to feel him touch her, cover her, be inside her. It had been so long and she knew in the future she would have to wait longer but right now she didn’t want to wait. She just wanted to feel safe and secure and she knew she could feel that with Morgan.

When she began kissing him, he responded hesitantly at first. He knew she was still a wreck emotionally and he didn’t want to force her into doing something that she didn’t really want to do. But when she began dragging her nails up his back to take of his shirt, he resolved to let her be in control of everything; every article of clothing lost, every touch, every kiss, every breath taken.

When he entered her, he felt her legs wrap around him instinctively, keeping him close to her body. He continued to kiss her and move in tune with her movements, and the way she was able to close her eyes and relish in the moment, after a week of being apart, made him acutely aware of how safe she felt with him. There was no fear in her, at least right now, while she was with him, under him; there was only a feeling of security; that everything would be fine as long as she was here, and he was here with her, together. Not alone. And when she came, and he came, together, and Morgan buried his face into the crook of her neck again, and she ran her fingers through his hair as he collapsed onto her, his body completely covering hers as he practically laid on top of her, she could only feel like she belonged here; like her place in the world, at this very moment, was with Morgan, and there wasn’t anything the universe could do to make her feel otherwise.

His body felt heavy on hers, but there was no way she wanted to give up the feeling. When he moved slightly to get off her, she squeezed every limb of her body around him. “No, stay,” she begged, her voice breathless. “Just stay.”


	14. Chapter 13

Briony was alone.

Morgan was somewhere between Carolina and Tampa Bay. She was 17 floors above Toronto in a condo building. The lights from the skyscrapers illuminated the tranquil night sky around her as she stood looking out her window. At 2am, there wasn’t much noise from the city below, despite being near one of the busiest intersections. She could feel the still, cold air of the night near her feet, the slightest draft coming in from outside. Everything was peaceful. Everything was serene.

Despite the stillness of the night, she couldn’t sleep. She wasn’t able to put her mind at ease since that morning, when she moved everything into the apartment. All she really had to do was hang up clothes, since everything else was furnished and provided, but when she was done there was still a sense of…restlessness within her. Now that she was alone, and not with Aryne, Lucy, Ashley, Angie, or any combination of the four, her mind began to reminisce on the past ten days. Even then, the past eighteen years.

Her first vivid memory was singing “Itsby Bitsy Spider” to her mother on the steps of a house she never lived in again. Sharon was sitting on a lawn chair, jean shorts and a tank top on, tanning in the sun. Briony had asked her if she wanted to hear her sing, and Sharon didn’t respond, so Briony just went for it. On the floor near where her mother’s hand dangled, a case of beer sat waiting to be consumed. When Briony finished the song, her mother looked at her through her sunglasses, said nothing, and took a long sip of beer.

Briony could remember every house they lived in. In a notebook she used to have, she had written down every address that became their temporary home. She remembered the rooms her mom’s “friends” would provide them in between them waiting for public housing units. She remembered each apartment they lived in thanks to Toronto Community Housing. She remembered the rooms at the homeless shelters they would stay in; the bigger rooms provided for them because they were a “family” versus the smaller rooms provided for them when it was winter and busy and so crowded that they only reason they got a room in the first place was because they were considered a “family”. She remembered sleeping on the floor and using her school backpack as a pillow while her mother took the only bed. Briony lost count at somewhere around twenty-five different living situations. She never counted recurring visits to the same homeless shelter as different.

Briony could remember the smell of alcohol whenever she would come from school. It was either alcohol or cigarette smoke – sometimes a mix of both – and for a while she wondered if she’d ever be able to get the stench out of her clothes. She could remember the first time she recognized a branded bottle of vodka on the coffee table. The clear liquid was always more important to Sharon than anything Briony ever had going on. It was more important than curriculum nights, than parent-teacher interviews, than toasting some bread for breakfast, than preparing a packed lunch for school, than making dinner, than tucking her into bed at night. It was the reason why her teachers gave her granola bars during recess, the reason some teacher she didn’t even know packed an extra sandwich for her to eat so she’d have a lunch. It was the reason she’d have to walk home everyday, regardless of how far the school was from the house or if it was raining or snowing. It was the reason why teacher after teacher would speak to her privately and ask her “Is everything alright at home?” and she’d have to look them dead in the eye and lie and say “Yes”, because the despite the severe alcoholism, the thought of her as a small child being separated from her mother was scarier than just dealing with it. Sharon always told her life would be worse for Briony if they were separated and Briony chose to believe her. She didn’t want to become a ‘system’ kid, lost and shuffled around until a family deemed her worthy of staying with them. Alcohol shaped Briony’s entire worldview as a child of how adults functioned. Alcohol gave Sharon an excuse not to be a mother, to love something other than her child. Alcohol prevented them from every having a normal, functioning, mother-daughter relationship. Alcohol killed any hope Briony had in Sharon of ever overcoming her addiction issues.

Briony could remember the day of the emancipation. She had provided the court with enough evidence against her mother, and the court ruled in her favour. In Ontario, she technically didn’t even need the court’s permission – she could have just left – but Briony wanted to make sure her mother, however lazy, couldn’t come back legally and claim something. It was a long and strenuous process, but she got what she wanted. Truthfully, she probably got what Sharon wanted too – to not have to care about another person anymore. Briony could take care of herself. She always did, anyway. When she left the courtroom, Sharon looked at her. _“I wasn’t a bad mom, you know,”_ she said to Briony, and that’s when Briony knew there was no saving her. Those were the last words Sharon said to her. Briony said nothing back.

Because of all this, moving was her normal. It was a miracle that she was even able to keep the same apartment in the Annex for a few years. Moving was her constant. So when she moved into this condo now, sleeker than anything she’d ever been in, _bigger_ that anything she’d ever lived in, it felt somewhat normal - somewhat because she wasn’t moving into a rooming house, or a shelter, or a subsidized apartment. It was a fresh start. She wasn’t going back to her past.

But that’s why her past was brought to her mind.

Briony knew her childhood wasn’t normal. She didn’t need a psychiatrist to tell her that. But after leaving her mother, she tried to make her life as normal as possible. She tried to put her past behind her. But with the break-in, her past had crept up on her again. She knew break-ins happened to a lot of people, but she couldn’t help but wonder why it kept happening to her; what bad luck she had stuck on her to have this happen again. The only exception was this time she had a support network. She had Angie and Mason, her best friends. She had Morgan, soft, strong, beautiful Morgan. She had Aryne and John; Jake and Lucy; Naz and Ashley – people willing to help her get through this so she didn’t have to be alone.

Despite the mix of emotions, and despite the feeling plaguing the pit of her stomach, she couldn’t call anybody. A part of her _didn’t_ want to call anybody. She had always handled these feelings on her own, and even though she had a support network now, she knew sometimes it was going to stay that way. She could get through this herself, as she always did; the mix of emotions, the feeling of restlessness, the recollection of her childhood. Nobody could truly understand what she had been through, and what it took for her to overcome the negativity surrounding her constantly. She was strong, and kind, and diligent, and a hard worker, and she knew she could handle this because she had done so before.

So instead of calling Angie or Morgan, she lay down on the floor. The place she knew best. The place she often slept growing up. And she stared up at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to overtake her mind, to calm her complicated thoughts.

*

“It’s a nice place,” Morgan commented as Briony finished giving him the tour of the apartment. Finally, _finally_, after so fucking long, he was home in Toronto. He had messaged almost constantly, and they have FaceTimed every day, but nothing beat having him back in the city where she could physically touch him, see him, hug him, kiss him. “Do you like it?” he asked.

Briony nodded her head. “It’s really nice. I’m still a bit…I don’t know, getting used to it. There’s a lot of room. But it’s really nice. You should see the view at night. It’s really pretty with everything lit up.”

“Do you feel safe here?” he asked again.

She nodded her head quickly. “I do.”

“Don’t lie to me. If you don’t feel safe we’ll find somewhere else.”

“I’m not lying,” she assured him as he grabbed her hand and pulled her gently towards his body so he could wrap an arm around her. “I feel really safe here. I’m high up, and there’s the doorman and the security system and stuff, and it’s all very high-tech.”

“Have you used any of the stuff in the kitchen?” he asked, knowing her great affinity for cooking. They were in it now, leaning up against the counter. “Ashley told me it’s fully stocked with everything.”

“I used the Kitchen Aid mixer to make my own pizza dough one night instead of ordering one,” she admitted, smiling. “I’m…gonna have a lot of fun using all this stuff.”

“Good,” he smiled, bending down to kiss her and to squeeze her ass. She yelped and giggled as he did so, and he responded by picking her up and placed her on the kitchen island, wrapping her legs around his torso. He was looking up at her at that point, and gave her a quick kiss. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to be here for you during the move.”

“It’s nothing that I’m not used to,” she said, his heart breaking a little as she did. “You have a job and responsibilities too you know. Just like me. We’re both adults. I understand why you couldn’t be here.”

“I know. But I feel like a bad boyfriend.” At one point he seriously contemplated approaching Babs and Kyle and asking permission to take a flight back to Toronto for all of eight hours so he could make sure she was okay. John had to talk him out of it.

“You’re the farthest thing from a bad boyfriend,” she said, running her fingers through his hair. She knew it calmed him, much like when he did it to her. When they were cuddling, besides having his hands on her ass or boobs, it was usually running gently through her hair. “You’re the best boyfriend I’ve had.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“I’m not. You really are,” she assured him. She knew she didn’t particularly have to stroke his ego on the subject, but she wanted to make it known. A mischievous grin appeared on her face. “Definitely the biggest dick.”

He snorted loudly. “I hope that’s _not_ an exaggeration.”

“I guess you’ll never know,” she wiggled her eyebrows.

He bit his lip before leaning in and kissing her, biting her bottom lip and dragging it with him as he pulled away. “You’re a vixen, you know that?” He pushed away from the counter. “Come on, show me everything you bought.”

When he called her a vixen she thought of the lingerie she ended up buying. Lucy was right – black did look good on her. A few different pieces were bought, and Briony would definitely pull them out at some point – probably before he left for Christmas – but for now, she’d keep them a secret. She had never put lingerie on for any previous boyfriends – mostly because she couldn’t afford it, but also because nobody had ever…requested it? She didn’t know if these conversations came up with couples. But with Morgan, she wanted to be ahead of the game. She didn’t want him to have to ask; she wanted to give him the gift herself.

She brought him back into the master bedroom and its large walk-in closet to see everything that was purchased for her. He saw the different pairs of jeans, the work tops versus the casual tops, the fitted trousers and professional blazers, the work dresses and skirts. He saw the designer pieces the girls convinced her to buy, in their own section in the closet. He saw the new shoes, the runners, some flats and of course some heels. He saw the new handbags, the Chanel pearl-studded crossbody, the Louis Vuitton tote, and the Yves Saint Laurent bag “for work”. He saw the new luxurious bathrobe, the new silk pajamas, the fancy creams, shampoos, skincare, and makeup she now had. The hair straightener. The curler. The good blow dryer.

“What was it like with the girls for that?” he asked, running his fingers over a chiffon dress hanging near the end of the closet.

She giggled slightly. “It was an adventure,” she commented.

“How so?”

She motioned to all the clothes hanging in the closet. “They…_we_ didn’t stop.”

“But that’s a good thing,” Morgan said. “You have all this stuff now.”

“Isn’t that what it just is…stuff?” she asked. Morgan gave her quizzical look. “Like, don’t get me wrong. I’m beyond grateful. You have no idea what it feels like for me to have all this. I never thought, in five lifetimes, that I’d ever have a Chanel bag, and now I have one. I never thought I’d have even just a Kate Spade bag. But I…_have_ a Chanel bag now. It’s all very weird, Morgan.”

“Why is it weird though?” he asked, shutting off the light in the closet as they exited. He guided her towards her bed and sat down, pulling her on top of him so she was sitting on his lap. “I told you before, you deserve nice things. And yes, at the end of the day it is just _stuff_, but it’s _nice_ stuff and stuff that you need.”

“Do I _need_ a Chanel bag?”

“But you _deserve_ it.”

“You don’t understand Morgan,” she said, shaking her head slightly. She didn’t mean it in a bad way; she was just stating a fact. Morgan grew up fairly rich, in a nice house in West Vancouver with both parents and a dog and membership at a country club. She grew up in subsidized housing and rooming houses in downtown Toronto with a single alcoholic mother who relied on welfare to keep them from drowning. His perspective on things was off in comparison to hers. It was just the reality of the situation. They came from two different worlds. “You have to understand…my dreams don’t even go that far.”

“What do you mean?” he cradled her face in one of his big hands.

“None of this was ever supposed to happen to me,” she whispered, a single tear rolling down her cheek. “I mean I worked my way to a good education and hopefully a decent job, but it’s all in an effort to achieve _modesty_. I was never going to have a Chanel bag. I was never going to have Gucci loafers. I was preparing myself for a decent apartment, and then hopefully when I met someone and got married, like, a bungalow in North York or something. I was never supposed to be surrounded by money. I was never supposed to be in the position to have a one hundred and twenty dollar bottle of wine at Cibo.”

Morgan wiped away her tears with the pad of his thumb and gave her a quick kiss. “I know it’s hard for you to accept all this. I know it’s completely out of your comfort zone. I get it. At least, I’m trying to. But just because you didn’t expect it, doesn’t mean you can’t accept it.”

“I know, I know. That’s what I have to reconcile with myself,” she said. “Somewhere along the line the universe went crazy and now I’m here. And I have to grow and learn and adapt. I know. It’s going to take some getting used to but I understand that I’m here now.” She ran her thumb along the outline of his lips, staring into his bright blue eyes. She gave him another quick kiss. “I still don’t feel comfortable about one thing though.”

“What’s that?”

“I don’t feel right not paying them back,” she revealed. “Ashley said she would burn any cheque or money I gave her, and Aryne and Lucy said the same, but it’s still not right. I’m thinking I should maybe take out a loan because we spent quite the pretty penny.”

Morgan stiffened at her words but then sighed heavily. “You don’t have to pay them back because it was me.”

She gave him a look of shock, like she couldn’t understand the words that were coming out of his mouth. “Excuse me?”

“I gave Ashley my credit card when she dropped off Naz,” he revealed. “Everything went on my card. I told her to go crazy, and I knew she would, because she’s Ashley”

“Morgan.”

“And I’m gonna repeat Ashley’s sentiments.”

“_Morgan_,” she cried on the spot, tears streaming down her face. “No no no no no no no,” she repeated over and over.

“Bumb--”

“Mo, _how_?” she wailed, trying to wriggle out of his grip. “Wh-Wh-Wh…”

“Hey hey hey, stop,” he cooed, wiping her tears again, holding on to her tighter so she wouldn’t go anywhere. “Briony, come on. You actually think I wasn’t going to do everything in my power to help you?”

“Mo…”

“Shhhh, shhhh,” he wrapped his arms around her and laid down on the bed, bringing her with him so her body was laying on top of his. “You deserve it, Bumblebee. You’ve been through so much and this is the least I can do, okay? Don’t think about it too much.”

Briony thought about the ramifications of his actions. It was deliberate – on the part of everybody. It wasn’t like he didn’t know what the girls were up to – he knew exactly. And it wasn’t like Ashley, Lucy, or Aryne were billing him for what they spent. Angie didn’t tell her when they went out. No. He had gone out of his way to give his credit card to Ashley, to tell her to ‘go crazy’, to cover every little thing she spent money on. The girls must have given each other the credit card when Briony wasn’t looking. She didn’t know if she should feel repulsed about the amount of money that would show up on his credit card bill. She wanted to wrestle her way out of his arms and return everything. She kept shaking her head. “I’m never gonna be able to re-repay you or earn enough mon --”

“Don’t even _think_ about it,” he said firmly. “What did I just tell you?”

“Morgan, that’s _a lot_.”

“And I have _a lot_. So don’t.” There was a long moment of silence. He knew she was thinking about all the stuff she bought, mentally calculating the cost of everything. He knew he wouldn’t even think twice when his credit card bill came. He looked down at her before he couldn’t help but add, “It _is_ a really nice Chanel bag.”

She squeezed her body onto his more. She had to agree; it _was_ a nice bag. It was at that point she realized she wasn’t going to win. She let out a shaky breath and realized this was her life now – at least momentarily. She wouldn’t be going on major, life altering shopping sprees again any time soon. “You do this for me and then I can’t even come to the Florida game tomorrow because of my last two exams. You said _you_ feel like a bad boyfriend but I feel like a bad girlfriend.”

“Naaaah nah nah nah,” he shook his head, placing light kisses all over her face. “You don’t worry that pretty little head of yours. Studying is more important that coming to my games. Always.”

“At least I’ll be done soon.”

“Wouldn’t matter. You could decide to go get your PhD. School is always more important,” Morgan said. “You’re gonna, like, rule the world Briony. You can’t do that with me expecting you to come to _all_ my hockey games.”

She couldn’t help but giggle again. “If I do become supreme ruler I promise to spare you.”

“Good. I’ll bow at your feet everyday.”

“You’ll be my Starbucks boy,” she giggled.

“_WOW_,” he let out loudly, causing her to laugh. “Is that all I’m good for? Starbucks runs?” he asked, not expecting an answer. “You still good to go to the Marleau’s Christmas party?”

She nodded her head. “It’s the day after exams finish. I’ll be good.”

“And you’re still spending Christmas with Angie and her family?” She nodded her head again. It was her ‘tradition’ to spend Christmas with Angie, whose family had unofficially adopted her for the holiday. After the Detroit game on the 23rd, Morgan would be catching a red-eye to Vancouver after the game to spend Christmas with his family. She didn’t want to have to think about him leaving again, but she had solace in the fact that they would be reunited on the 29th, when he’d be back in Toronto for a game against the Islanders. “I’ll call you,” he assured her. “We can FaceTime on Christmas.”

“That would be nice,” she smiled.

“And then, um, in January,” he began, his voice a little bit more hesitant than before. “We have a bye week. I was going to go back to Vancouver, spend some time with my family. I was um…I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come.”

Briony’s body stiffened slightly. Was…was he really asking her to go to Vancouver with him? To his hometown? To meet his parents? “I’ll have to see if I can afford it.”

“_Briony_.”

She cringed slightly. It was her go-to response for everything involving money, but these days, she needed to think of something different because _of course_ he’d be paying for her to go with him. It would be her first time on an airplane. “I’d want to Morgan, but I’d have to see. I might be job hunting or have interviews.”

“But you’d want to come.”

“Well, yeah.”

That was apparently enough for him. He didn’t say a word more; he just kept a hold on her as his eyelids fluttered closed for his pre-game nap.

She could only stay in his arms for so long until the ramifications of the conversation she just had crept up on her and left her unable to fall asleep beside him. Her mind was too active for sleep. The lengths to which he went to have her recoup everything that she lost was extravagant. Giving his credit card to a bunch of women with healthy spending habits wasn’t…logical. Telling them to ‘go crazy’ was crazy in and of itself. Not blinking twice when he saw all the clothes – the Gap, the Club Monaco, the Loft, the Banana Republic, the every other store she had never shopped in before, the Chanel, the Yves Saint Laurent, the Gucci – was just outrageous. Right? Like, any sane person would have seen that closet full of clothes and have said, “I think that’s a bit too much.” _Right?_

Why would he do this? Why would he willingly drop all that money on her? She was just some girl. Some girl from Toronto. There was nothing special about her. She was nice and she was smart and she worked hard, but she didn’t think there was much else to her. She could be very stubborn sometimes. She could be too proud, especially about her education. She could roll her eyes too often in a conversation. She could make too many snarky comments during a conversation and put people off. Why did he do what he did so willingly, without a second thought? Why was he so…nonchalant about it all?

As she moved out of his arms slowly, ensuring he didn’t wake up, she grabbed her phone out of her pocket and made her way to the bathroom is the second bedroom on the other side of the apartment. She closed the door and sat on the floor before dialling Angie’s number, whom she knew was on lunch break.

“Hi lover,” Angie answered cheerily.

“Angie…he told me,” Bee said.

“He told you what?” Angie asked nervously.

“He told me he gave you guys his credit card and that everything we bought, he paid for,” her voice was getting shakier the more words she said.

“Oh. Yeah,” Angie said. “I was sworn to secrecy. Is…” her voice was hesitant. She knew her best friend was already crying. “Bee…that’s not a bad thing. You know that, right? He’s helping you.” Angie’s heart broke as she heard her best friend cry through the phone. The sniffles and the deep breaths and the sobs she had to listen to made her physically ill.

“He’s so good to me Angie. _Why is he so good to me?_”

Bee’s voice was so frail and fragile. “Bee…”

“Why is he so good to me?” she repeated, tears streaming down her face and sobs escaping her. “What did I do to deserve this? Why is he so good to me?”

“You were never meant to live a quiet, docile life,” Angie said in a soothing voice, trying to calm herself as much as she was trying to calm Bee. “You were born for better circumstances that what you were born in to and what you grew up in. I just wish you’d see that like everyone else around you sees it.”

“I don’t belong in this world. Why am I living in an apartment without paying rent?”

“Bee, they’re _helping_ you,” Angie stressed. “You know if Mason and I had the means we’d be doing everything in our power to help you too. They’re helping you in the way they know how. It’s not _your_ problem that they’re using _their_ disposable income to help you.”

“But I’m not…I’m not…”

“Don’t you _dare_ say you’re not worth it,” Angie said firmly. “I don’t give a fuck what your absolute disgrace of a mother would tell you growing up, but you’re worth every fucking penny, every fucking ounce of effort anyone puts into having a relationship with you. Do you hear me? If I ever saw your mother anywhere I would fucking kill her for instilling this sense of worthlessness in you and for making you think like you don’t deserve anything or that you don’t belong somewhere.”

“Angie, I don’t want this without you,” Bee cried.

“Bee, you’re not losing me.”

“I don’t want to change so much that you don’t recognize me, or I don’t recognize where I came from anymore,” Bee said. “Money changes people, Angie. I don’t want it to change me.”

“Money won’t change you, Bee. You have strong principles. Just because your boyfriend and his friends have money it doesn’t mean that it’s going to change you. If anything, it might change _him_. Might make him and those around him more grateful.”

“I don’t know…”

“Bee, you’re his girlfriend because of your character. Everything else is secondary. He wouldn’t be doing this if he wasn’t head over heels for you,” Angie explained. “I know you guys have only been seeing each other a few months, but I’ve never seen you this way with another person. You have to let go of any insecurities that you have that revolve around him having money and you not having money because that shit doesn’t matter to Morgan.”

“I don’t know what I did to deserve this. I don’t know what God or what entity decided to have this become my life,” Bee said. “I don’t want to lose you Angie. You’re the only family I have.”

“You’re never going to lose me. We’re going to be 90 years old with walkers and fake teeth in the same nursing home telling each other the same jokes we laugh about today,” Angie assured her. “I love you, Bee. You’re the sister I never had. I’m never going to leave you.”

“I love you too Angie. So much you don’t even know.”


	15. Chapter 14

Briony looked down at her phone as Morgan drove uptown to the Marleau residence. They lived in a beautiful area called Lawrence Park, with tree-lined streets much like the Annex, and houses so big Bee wondered how long they took to clean (who knew, because the owners didn’t either; they probably all had maids). Every year since the family had arrived in Toronto, Christina decided to host a team Christmas party, with family members and children invited to have dinner and take pictures with Santa Claus.

She swiped through her Instagram, liking a few pictures and deleting the few message requests she was starting to get from bots. She didn’t even read what they had to say, she just swiped left – if she didn’t recognize the username, it was an automatic delete. Many of them were women in what looked like Instagram model-worthy shots, definitely meant to lure men, so the most she could do was roll her eyes. She figured her Instagram account was easy enough to find for the bots – it was literally just her name, all one word, because she wasn’t witty enough to think of something else.

Briony had finished her exams yesterday – her last ever for school. If she passed them (who was she kidding? She’d pass them) she would be awarded her Master’s, and her graduation ceremony would be set in June. She was excited, but felt a little bittersweet about finishing school. She felt that she had spent such a long time going to class, studying, writing, interning, seeing her own TAs, being a TA, marking…and it was all coming to an end. She’d finally be entering the workforce and (hopefully) earn some good money. Her entire university career led to this.

She put her phone back in her purse and looked over at Morgan. He was wearing a grey sweater and some slacks, and looked dapper in his camel coloured coat. She decided to wear a green dress and some black opaque tights. She thought about the black lace bodysuit she had on underneath the dress. It was itching her skin a bit but she’d be able to live with it because, well, it made her boobs look great and she was planning to surprise Morgan afterwards, anyway. They had two games to go – one against the Rangers tomorrow night and against Detroit on Sunday – and then he’d be gone that night on a red-eye flight back to Vancouver. It was her only opportunity.

When they arrived at the Marleau residence, Briony was happy to see the house lit up with lights and a giant inflatable Santa Claus on the front lawn – no doubt a request from the four boys. Morgan rang the doorbell and before long, Patrick opened the door with a big smile on his face and his youngest son on his hip, a pair of reindeer antlers on both their heads.

“Mowgan!”

“Hi Caleb!” Morgan said enthusiastically. “Are those Rudolph’s antlers?”

“Mowgan you need atlews too!” he gripped on to them as he wiggled out of his dad’s arms and ran to a basket near the front hall table.

“Caleb! Are you going to say hi to Morgan’s friend?” Patrick called his son back, giving Bee a sympathetic look. “Sorry – he gets really excited when he sees any of the boys.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” she waved off Patrick, thinking it unnecessary to apologize.

When Caleb came back, he had a pair of reindeer antlers in his hand, reaching up to give them to Morgan. Morgan bent down on his knees and gave Caleb a quick hug. “Caleb, can you say hi to my friend?” he pointed at Bee.

Bee bent down to be at eye level with him. He seemed a bit shy when she did so, his hands immediately going to his mouth. “Hi Caleb. It’s nice to meet you.”

“What’s youw name?”

“My name’s Bee.”

“Bee? Like a bumblebee?”

Bee laughed, shooting a quick look at Morgan. “Yup! Just like a bumblebee.”

“Youw Mowgan’s fwiend?” he clarified, and Bee nodded her head. “Do you want antlews too?”

“I would _love_ some antlers!” Bee smiled as he ran away again to get her a pair. When he returned, she put them on quickly. “Now we match!”

“You Mowgan’s giwlfwiend?” he asked, his eyes big and he looked between her face and the antlers on her head.

Bee giggled a bit. “Yes Caleb, I’m Morgan’s girlfriend.”

“You hewe fow the pawty too?”

Bee nodded her head. “Is it okay if I come inside your house?”

Caleb gave her one last look before giving an enthusiastic nod, running back to his dad and demanding to be picked up. Patrick balanced him on his hip as they made their way into the house to see everybody mingling and eating the hors d’oeuvres that were being passed around. Most of the team was already there – she could spot Fred, John, and Tyler all sipping on drinks while Ashley, Lucy, and Alannah were posing for a picture with decorative elves. Patrick’s older son Landon was busy trying to punch Auston in the gut, and Mitch was looking at a ministick Brody was showing off. Christmas carols were playing in the background. It was all very warm and welcoming.

Alannah saw her come in first and walked over to hug her. Soon, many of the girls followed and whisked her away from Morgan so she could say hi to Christina. She posed for some pictures with Aryne and Alannah with the decorative elves, and grabbed a drink to sip on. Morgan, too caught up with Fred, couldn’t watch her have fun with them.

This was the first team event since the break-in, and despite what she kept letting on, he knew that she was still pretty torn up about it. To Briony, it wasn’t about the clothes or the purses or the new apartment, all recuperated within days – she still felt that her life had been disrupted and violated, despite all the hard work she put in to making herself safe. He knew he would have to work hard to make her feel safe again, and he knew she saw it as having to start all over in creating a safe atmosphere for her to live in. She knew everybody was there to support her in any way that she needed, but she was still uncomfortable with all the attention and all the help. She had never been able to rely on any one else before, and now she suddenly could? It was completely unusual to her. She was weary about it all, and he knew it. It didn’t mean that she couldn’t be happy, that she couldn’t have a good time at a Christmas party, that he couldn’t find her ogling the Chanel bag in a mirror in her bedroom and have a small laugh about it, but he could tell there was still something, something deep within her, that made her feel out of her element.

The longer they were there, the more the party got into full swing. Kids were running around everywhere and the special cocktails kept floating. He tried to keep tabs on Bee’s whereabouts, and whenever he saw her, she was with Auston or Tyler – mainly Auston. She’d send Morgan a smile and a wink from across the room and he’d have to accept it before she was distracted by something that was said that made her laugh, and he’d have to watch as she giggled and sipped on a drink. Tyler he didn’t worry about – he was a harmless Casanova that wouldn’t even _think_ about doing anything. Morgan didn’t worry about Auston either…much. He was an even bigger Casanova than Tyler, but there was something about the way he made Briony laugh so much, something about the way he would lean into her or adjust her antlers or bring her to get another drink or more food that made Morgan…iffy. He knew Auston wouldn’t do anything either, and that it was probably the alcohol talking, but he was still…iffy.

By the end of the night, after the countless pictures and boomerangs and gift giving to the kids by “Santa Claus”, Morgan had barely seen his girlfriend. He wasn’t mad but he wasn’t exactly happy either. This was their last big hurrah; their second-last night together before he was leaving for Vancouver, and she had decided to spent most of the night with his teammates. After they said goodbye to the Marleaus, they shuffled themselves back into his car.

“That was really fun, wasn’t it?” she asked, her cheeks flushed red from the cold outside. He started the car without answering her, driving along the street and making a turn to get them on the road back home. “Morgan?”

“Oh wow, you’re finally talking to me,” he said without looking at her, gripping the steering wheel.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He looked at her quickly and couldn’t believe she was completely oblivious about the situation. “Auston was practically flirting with you all night.”

Her eyebrows rose at what he said, more so at w hat he was implying. “Oh he was, was he?” she asked indignantly. “And you’re accusing me of flirting back?”

“No. I didn’t say that,” he said curtly. “There’s a distinction. I don’t think _you_ were flirting. I think _he_ was flirting with _you_ and I don’t like that.”

“Auston wasn’t flirting with me. I can assure you,” she said. She _definitely_ wasn’t his type – and that was being nice about it.

“You barely made any time for me,” he mumbled, concentrating on the road.

She rolled her eyes. “Are you really gonna be this way right now? After a Christmas party?”

“I’m allowed to feel pissy for a bit,” he defended himself.

“But there’s no reason to feel pissy.”

“There is to me,” he said, his tone putting an end to the conversation. There was clearly no talking to him, and he was gonna sulk about it the rest of the way home.

Everything was going according to plan.

*

When they got back to his place, Morgan took off his shoes and went straight to his bedroom, still giving Briony the silent treatment like he had the rest of the way home. She gave him a bit of space and time to sulk, but in reality, she was hyping herself up for what she was planning. She got a glass from the cupboard and took a giant gulp of water before setting down the glass on the counter. _You can do this. It looks good. He wants you. He’s wanted you time and time again. _

When she walked into the bedroom, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his shoes and dress shirt already off but his pants still on. She walked over to the full-length mirror, slipped off her opaque tights, and pretended to fiddle with the zipper at the back of her dress, making it seem like she couldn’t do it herself. She walked over to Morgan and stood with her back to him. “Can you unzip me?”

Despite his apparent anger with her, she knew he wouldn’t deny such a simple request. She felt his warm hand graze the nape of her neck before pulling the zipper all the way down. When he did, the flaps of the dress parted to reveal the black lace bodysuit she was wearing underneath. “What’s that?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said, her voice casual. She was holding on to the rest of the dress so it wouldn’t fall on the floor just yet. “Just a little something I had to put on for the dress.”

She heard him gulp audibly. “Just a little something.”

“Mhm.” She finally slipped the dress off her arms, letting it fall to the floor in a puddle at their feet. “But you’re mad at me. So I may as well take--”

“No,” he interjected desperately. “Let me take a look at y--” he put his hand on her hip to spin her around so he could get a better view.

“_No_,” she swatted his hand away. “You think I’m a flirt and I don’t give you attention, so there’s no point,” she said, moving to walk away.

“Waaaaait wait wait,” he pulled her back. He was able to turn her around this time since there wasn’t much of a fight on her part, and he saw the black lace all over her body and breasts. His hands wandered along her hips and thighs, wanting to do so much more. It was _a lot_ to take in. “What were you thinking of doing in this tonight?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged her shoulders playfully, not giving him the answer he wanted. Her hands rested on his shoulders and she began massaging them. “I just thought the black lace looked nice.”

“Just thought it looked nice, huh?” he repeated her words, licking his lips quickly. “It looks incredible.”

“Well, good.”

“C’mon. What were you thinking of doing in this tonight?” he asked again.

“Depends.”

“On what.”

She smiled. “On what you want.”

Morgan’s eyes flashed. “I want everything.”

“Do you?”

He nodded his head desperately. She could already see his growing erection in his pants as her hands wandered down to his chest, pushing him so he was leaning back on his elbows. She dragged her fingers along his chest and made her way down to the waist of his dress pants. “Well, you just sit back and relax then,” she smirked, kneeling in front of him and unbuckling his belt.

He couldn’t help but feel like the biggest idiot in the fucking universe for getting so riled up about Auston at the party – especially since _this_ was waiting for him when he arrived home. He lifted his hips and watched as she pulled his pants down with his underwear, grabbing his semi-hard cock in her hands. She pumped him a few times before licking the underside of his cock, ending with a cheeky kiss on his head.

“Fuck Briony,” he breathed out, the sight of her on her knees in between his legs never getting old. She took his head in her mouth, swirling her tongue around before taking him deeper. He gasped at the sensation.

“Does it feel good?” she asked quickly, stroking him a few more times as she looked up at him.

He had guided her before on what he liked and didn’t like because she wasn’t as confident in her abilities as she wanted to be, and right now she was acing it. He gave her a quick nod of his head before she went back to sucking, taking him deeper and deeper into her mouth. He brought his hand up and gathered her hair so he could see her better. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the sight of her, and he inhaled sharply as she hummed at the grip he had on her hair.

“You think you can wear that and not make me go crazy?” he muttered as she continued to bob her head up and down. “You think you can get away with teasing me like that?”

“You like the black lace, baby?”

“I fucking _love_ it,” he said. “It looks so good on you baby. And that’s all for me.”

“All for you,” she winked.

She took him even deeper now, and he couldn’t help himself; he pushed her further down so she could take more of him, and she moaned. “Is that okay?” he asked delicately, only for her to moan again in assurance before one of her hands disappeared. He noticed her arm moving, and he clued in to what she was doing. “Are you touching yourself, baby?” She moaned again in response, taking him all the way to the back of her throat. At the sensation of hitting the back of her throat, and at the confirmation that she was touching herself, Morgan let out a guttural moan.

She began bobbing up and down again, the sound of Morgan’s moans fuelling the heat between her thighs. She kept making sure she was going deep enough to hit the back of her throat, and she figured he was enjoying the feeling, judging by how his grip on her hair would tighten every time he felt it. His visceral reactions to what she was doing made her feel so confident, unlike other times she had gone down on him.

“You’re being such a good girl,” he cooed, knowing that she wouldn’t respond because she was too busy. “You’re doing so good, baby. Are you still touching yourself for me?” he asked, and she moaned in response. “You’re getting that pussy ready for me, aren’t you?”

She gagged slightly. His breath hitched in his throat at the sound and he threw his head back, unable to look at her, because if he did he wasn’t going to be able to last much longer. He was going to fucking _die_. When he collected himself enough to look at her again, she was looking at him with pleading eyes. He nodded his head and let out a quick “S’good, baby,” before she did it again, throwing him in into another fit of being unable to look at her in fear of literally dying right then and there on his bed.

Briony’s body was responding to him and his reactions so readily, and she continued to do what was making him throw his head back in pleasure as he panted, his short breaths getting more and more erratic. “You look so good with my cock in your mouth,” he breathed out, surprising even himself at his dirty talk.

Another gag. He was going to fucking lose it. His reactions were clearly giving her a lot of confidence and she was using it to her advantage. He had to collect his breath before warning her, “Stop, stop. I don’t want to come down your throat.”

She pulled off of him with a pop. “But I want to taste you, baby,” she pleaded.

“No,” he shook his head. Although it was something he dreamt of – something that definitely sustained him and got him off in hotel rooms during road trips when he was away from her – he didn’t want it to happen tonight. “It’s my turn to taste you,” he said before pulling her up and dragging them further on to the bed. “C’mere and sit on my face.”

She readily did as she was told, waiting for Morgan to get comfortable with his head on the pillows before she moved above him and lowered herself onto his face. She had made herself hot by playing with herself when she was sucking him off, and now she had _this_ to look forward to.

He moved the lace fabric to the side and immediately began lapping at her core, not bothering to take his time or build up to anything. He was hungry for her and she knew it. She moved to push off the lace from her shoulder, but he brought his hand up quickly to stop her. “Leave it on,” he said quickly before going back to sucking and licking at her clit.

She smiled and moved it back onto her shoulder. She gripped her hands in his hair, much like he did with her before, and looked down at him. “You look good down there,” she smiled.

He responded by gripping her hips in his hands tightly, guiding her to grind on his face, which she readily did. She leaned forward slightly, leaning on the headboard for leverage as she continued to rock back and forth. She could barely contain herself as she began to moan his name over and over.

“Tastes good, baby?” she asked.

He moaned in response, and the vibration almost put her over the edge right then and there. She didn’t want to come yet – she wanted it to last because Morgan was just _so good_ at what he was doing – but then he brought his hands up and snuck them underneath the lace that covered her breasts. He cupped them in his hands and began massaging them, pinching her nipples in between his thumb and index finger. Her hands left his hair and went over his.

She was panting, her breath getting hazy and hoarse as she continued to grind against his face, and she leveraged herself on the headboard. “You’re doing so good baby, I’m so close,” she said.

“You’re close?”

“Keep doing what you’re doing baby,” she urged him. “I’m gonna come all over your face.”

He continued his lapping, and she continued her moans and her grinding, and he knew, he fucking _knew_, that _motherfucker_, because just as she was about to lose herself, he stopped. The bastard fucking _stopped_. He grabbed her ass and raised her body slightly so he could slip underneath her.

“M…What the fuck?!” she demanded as she looked back at him. He was already kneeling back with the grin of a motherfucker on his face. She could have killed him. She could have killed him right then and there.

“C’mere,” he motioned to her, and she was desperate, _so fucking desperate_, that instead of putting up a fight and telling him off she did as she was told. She wrapped an arm around his neck and positioned herself so she straddled one of his thighs. She kissed him, wet and sloppy, and tasted herself on his face. He gathered her hair in his fist again before pulling at it, making her arch her back. Her breasts were in his face now and he licked and sucked them into his mouth, biting down gently at her nipples, making her yelp.

He wasn’t able to do that for long before she yanked at his hair and kissed him again, grinding herself on his thigh slowly. “You’re an evil man, Mr. Rielly.”

“Oh, you’re gonna call me _that_ now?” his voice was low and hoarse. “Don’t dish it if you can’t take it.”

“I’d like to see you try,” she smiled. If he was going to be evil, she could be evil right back. Two could play at that game.

“Don’t go there baby. I can score in more ways than one and you know it.”

“Scoring? Isn’t that Auston’s job?” she asked wryly, looking directly into his eyes, knowing it would set him off.

He couldn’t believe what she just said. “Oh…you fuckin…”

“What are you gonna do? Spank me?”

Morgan’s eyes went dark. Something switched on deep within him. On instinct, he gave her ass a hard slap and she yelped at the sensation, grinding her core harder against his thigh. “_Fuck_,” she sighed out.

“You liked that, didn’t you?”

She nodded her head. “Again.”

“Again?”

“Again.”

Another smack. He could feel the wetness on his thigh and it was slowly driving him crazy. “Look at you. So desperate to feel good. You like rubbing yourself against me?”

She nodded her head. “I want more.”

“More?”

“More. I want your cock inside me.”

He knew that they had experimented with some dirty talk before, but Morgan had never had such a filthy mouth, and he’d never heard Briony have such a filthy mouth either or request such things like she was now. It was unexpected but she knew exactly what to say to set him off, and now there was no turning back. “I don’t know if girls who flirt with other guys get what they want,” he teased her.

“I _need_ your cock inside me. Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please Morgan, I need your cock.”

“I believe you called me by a different name earlier.”

“_Morgan_,” she pleaded, only for him to spank her ass again.

“What d’you call me?” he squeezed her ass hard.

“Mr. Rielly.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“_Please_ Mr. Rielly, _please_ bury your cock inside me,” she whimpered.

He pushed her off his thigh and flipped her around on the bed, practically manhandling her so she was on her hands and knees in front of him. He stretched the black lace and pulled it to the side before teasing her at her entrance. “You want my cock?”

“Yes Mr. Rielly.”

“Again.”

“_Yes_ Mr. Rielly,” she mewled, trying to back up to feel him more.

“_Again_.”

“_Pleeeeease_ Mr. Rielly,” she was begging at this point, the strain evident in her voice. She felt like she was going to explode. “_Pleeeeease_ fuck me.”

He entered her in one quick thrust, overwhelming her completely and causing her to cry out. He pounded into her, so rough and so loud, the sound of their flesh smacking into each other and the squelching sound of his cock moving in and out of her muffled by her loud moans and screams as he refused to let up. It was absolutely filthy and they loved every fucking second. He could go on like this forever, and his stamina paid off big time for how long he was able to keep going.

When he knew she was close and wouldn’t be able to hold it much longer, he pulled her hair again and brought her body towards him so her back is flush with his chest as he kept pounding inside of her. The sensation of him thrusting into her at a new angle led her to scream out a string of expletives. He wrapped an arm around her body to support her and pulled down the black lace around her breasts, cupping one and squeezing and pinching her nipple as they bounced against her body. His other hand went straight to her clit, rubbing circles.

“Who gets to fuck you like this, Briony?” he whispered in her ear.

“You do Morgan.”

“I can’t hear you,” his hand momentarily left her clit to give her another slap on her ass.

“You!” she screamed as he rubbed at the spot. “Nobody fucks me besides you, Morgan.”

“That’s right.”

“Only you.”

“Only me,” he repeated, his hand going back to rubbing her clit. “Are you going to come for me, baby?”

“I’m so close Mr. Rielly,” her voice was hoarse, breathless.

He craned her head back and placed a sloppy wet kiss on her lips. “I want you to come all over my cock baby. Your wet little pussy is all mine.”

“It’s all yours, Mr. Rielly. Only yours.”

He didn’t know how, but he thrust harder and faster into her, and she completely fell apart, screaming with whatever breath and voice she had left, collapsing into the arm that was holding her up. She kept repeating his name over and over again, every time she came again and again and again, like she always fucking did with him, because he was so good and so considerate and just fucking _spoiled_ her all the time. She never came so hard or so often with any other partner and she thanked her lucky stars that it was Morgan who was able to do this to her, who was able to fill her up so perfectly. Finally, he came too, filling her with his hot cum as she squeezed her walls around him. He cried out her name over and over, in between catching his breath and still rubbing circles onto her clit so she could ride out her orgasms, her pussy wet and full and so warm that if he had the choice he’d be buried in her forever.

They collapsed onto the bed, their hot, sweaty bodies sticking to the sheets as both tried to catch their breaths. It had barely been thirty seconds but he already missed the feeling of being buried deep inside of her, her walls clenching around him. Was this what it was like being a sex addict? Jesus. The way her mouth felt around his cock, the way she grinded on his thigh…_God_, all the dirty talk? The _Mr. Rielly_? The way she let him spank her? Multiple times? He knew it was physically impossible but he swore he was getting hard again just thinking about it.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked. When Briony didn’t answer, he looked over to her. She was still staring at the ceiling, trying to catch her breath. “Briony.”

“Huh? What?”

“Did I hurt you?”

“Fuck no,” she breathed out. “But I don’t think I’m gonna be able to walk tomorrow.”

He chuckled slightly, too tired to do much else. He moved to his side and hooked her leg over his waist. His hand moved from her thigh to her still-wet core, and he moved the lace fabric again and rubbed his finger in between her folds. She jerked against his touch, still so sensitive after being fucked senseless. “Mo, please,” she begged, her voice strained. If she felt any more stimulation she was going to die. She felt his cum still in her and knew he was feeling for some of it to trickle out. She could barely believe sex this amazing was possible.

“I just wanna feel how wet you still are. How wet I made you,” he said. “I’m gonna take you up to a cabin on the Sunshine Coast, away from everyone, and fuck you senseless ‘till the day I die.”

She smiled, her cheeks flushed red. “Sounds like a plan to me, Mr. Rielly.”

He kissed her one last time before snuggling into her, his hand resting on her core as they both fell sound asleep. 


	16. Chapter 15

Since knowing Angie, Christmas Eve and Christmas Day had grown to be Bee’s favourite days. It wasn’t because of the small gifts her family gave to her, or because she got to stuff her face with amazing food. It was because Angie’s younger brother, Joshua, would set up board games for the family to play on Christmas Eve before they went to midnight mass at their local Catholic Church, and then he’d put funny IOUs in everybody hand knit stockings (that he knit himself) on the fireplace mantle. It was because Angie’s family had a cozy wood-burning fireplace at their house that her dad would roast chestnuts in while her mom opened the tub of ice cream and scooped some out for everyone even after their enormous meal. It was because their family dog, an old Cavalier King Charles spaniel named Sarah Jessica Barker (yes, really) would curl up on Bee’s lap as the family watched whatever movie was on TV.

Angie’s house, for however much it was _not_ Bee’s home, felt like her natural home. Besides her old apartment, it was where she felt most at ease, where she could kick her feet up, fall asleep on the couch, go into the fridge whenever she was hungry, and drop in whenever she wanted. There was always room for her. There was always space.

When she arrived with Angie and Mason on the morning of Christmas Eve, Rocco and Clarette welcomed her with open arms and warm hugs. Their house was decorated with all of Joshua and Angie’s old Christmas artwork from grade school, poinsettia tablecloths, and figurines on Santas, snowmen, penguins, polar bears, and more. It sort of looked like Christmas threw up, but Bee loved it. She loved how festive Clarette got and she loved how Rocco just let her decorate the house however she wanted.

“How are yooooooouuuuuu,” Clarette cooed as she let go of her tight hug, her French Canadian accent music to Bee’s ears. “I haven’t seen you in such a long time! Angie told me you finally finished school.”

“I did!”

“And your graduation? When is your graduation so we can book the day off?”

“Mom, you’re both retired. You don’t need to book off anything,” Angie deadpanned.

Bee giggled. “It’s not until June, Clarette,” she informed her. “You still have a lot of time.”

“What about jobs now? Are you going to join Angie at Indigo?” Rocco joined in. His voice was stern and serious, but Bee knew he was a complete softie who talked to the dog in a baby voice.

“I don’t think they’d allow that. They’d destroy the place,” Mason piped up.

“She’s in _finance_ Rocco,” Clarette chastised her husband. “She’s gonna handle our retirement savings. Right mignonette?”

“Sort of.”

“Well come in, come in. Go drop your stuff off in your room,” Clarette encouraged. “I’m going to make some tea. You want your Earl Grey? Rocco knows how to make a London Fog now. We got a new machine. Angie, tell Joshua dad is making London Fogs for everyone.”

Rocco and Clarette’s house was everything that Bee envisioned a family house to be. It was a side split in the suburbs with three bedrooms on the second floor and a room converted to a fourth bedroom on a split level between the main and the basement. It was very homey, not ostentatious in any way, although Rocco and Clarette did invest in some upgrades before they retired, like a new kitchen, a fresh paint job, and some new floors and furniture in the main living areas. It was perfect and modest – what Bee dreamed of when she saw her life ten, fifteen, twenty years from now. It was everything she could want. 

Her room was always the fourth bedroom. When Rocco’s father lived with them for two years before he passed away, Bee would just shack up with Angie, but now the room was dedicated to her again. She threw her weekender bag on the bed and plopped down dramatically, taking in the scent of the freshly washed sheets. Clarette had even put a little chocolate on the pillow. She was in heaven.

A slight knock on her door revealed Josh standing in the doorway with a smile on his face. At twenty, he was a tall, lanky university undergrad studying theatre at York University. He wanted to become the next Shakespeare, or at least the next Laurence Olivier. He even had a prop skull on his bedroom desk. 

“How’s my favourite Angie friend?” he asked, leaning on the doorframe.

“Your mom’s the best. You know that, right?”

Joshua chuckled. “I do.”

“I hope you kiss her every night.”

“When I make it home,” he winked, waltzing into the room. “Angie told me you’re done with school.”

“I am.”

“So are you going to be able to tell me what a poor starving artist I’ll be once I finish this theatre degree?”

Bee snorted. “You’re going to marry rich, Josh. Remember? You’ll be richer than all of us combined.”

“I don’t think I’ll be richer than _everyone_,” he said, sitting down on the bed beside her. “A little birdie told me you’re dating a Toronto Maple Leaf.”

She rose from her position dramatically. “Your sister’s got a big mouth.”

“I’m sure Mason appreciates it.”

Bee pushed him over. “You’re fucking gross, Josh.”

“Stop trying to deflect. She told me it’s Morgan Rielly.”

“It _is_ Morgan Rielly.”

“And how’s that going?”

“Fine,” she side-eyed him. “How’s Patrick?”

“Fine,” he gave her the same side-eye. “He’s back home in St. Thomas, but we’re seeing each other Boxing Day.”

“That’s sweet,” she said, and she meant it sincerely. She was glad Joshua found someone that made him happy. “Are you guys gonna join your sister and I at the Eaton’s Centre?”

“We’re going to have brunch first, then we might, depending if we’re in the mood,” he said. “Are you…I mean, how are you feeling about everything that happened?”

Bee knew that Angie would have told her family. She was an extension of the family, so it was only natural. And it was only natural that Josh was worried, that he cared about her and that he wanted to make sure she was okay, since it only happened a month ago. “Better now,” she said, giving him a smile. “I’m living at a new place with a doorman and stuff. It feels much safer. I got some new clothes and a new laptop, and everything’s been good.”

“My parents were really torn up about it,” he revealed. “My dad was ready to hop in the truck and drive down to the Annex. Angie had to stop him. Told him it was already being taken care of.”

“Yeah. Morgan helped a lot,” Bee revealed. “And, um, you know, some of the other Leafs.”

A grin appeared on Joshua’s face. “Look at you. Getting help from the Leafs.”

“Hey kids! London fogs are ready for you!” Rocco called loudly from the kitchen area. “Get ‘em while they’re still hot!”

“C’mon, let’s go,” Josh stood up, extending his arm for Bee and pulling her up from the bed. “Angie told Dad too and he’s gonna interrogate you for the remainder of the day.”

*

Christmas morning was typical of the Favaro household. At around 8:15am, Bee heard Clarette clanking around in the kitchen, preparing a quick breakfast that everyone would eat before they moved on to opening presents. Soon, she heard Josh’s voice helping her out, probably preparing the pot of coffee. Every Christmas morning, he was the designated bacon fryer – a job he took very seriously, since bacon was always the first thing to go.

When Bee emerged from her room, still in her pajamas like everyone else, she got a big hug and a kiss from Clarette. Josh, already too busy with the bacon, pointed at his cheek for her to come over to where he was standing at the stove and kiss him, which she did. Soon enough, Rocco, Angie, and Mason arrived, and everybody did their part to set the table and plate the scrambled eggs and bacon. Rocco slapped Josh’s arm for eating a piece of bacon before everyone else could. Angie almost spilled the entire sugar jar all over the counter.

When breakfast was done, they made their way into the family room to open presents. Sarah Jessica Barker trotted over to the commotion and jumped up onto the armchair Bee was sitting on, snuggling herself into Bee’s side as Mason passed everybody their presents. Bee bought Clarette and Rocco gifts every year despite their insistence that she not, and she also usually bought a gift for Josh.

Clarette and Rocco began unwrapping their gift from Bee at the same time. She got them both books – for Clarette, Elena Ferrante’s _Neopolitan_ novels in her native French, and for Rocco, _Warlight_ by Michael Ondaatje since he wanted to take up reading now that he was retired.

“You’re always so thoughtful, Bee,” Rocco said, smiling at her as he read the book sleeve. “I remember taking Clarette to go see the _English Patient_ when it came out as a movie.”

“I’ve been wanting to read these forever!” Clarette exclaimed as she took the plastic film off. She elbowed her husband next to her on the couch. “You know, because they’re in French they’ll be closer to the original Italian.”

Josh opened his gift too – a mug with a packet of David’s Tea. He drank more tea than the entirety of Britain, so it was only fitting. Bee’s gift to Angie and Mason, S’well bottles, also went over well. Josh got her a floral scarf, which she loved, and she threw it over her shoulders dramatically. Angie and Mason got her a candle and a nice white frame, undoubtedly to put a picture of her and Morgan in for the new apartment. Clarette and Rocco gifted Bee a nice cutting board, knowing how much she liked to cook, and also a gnocchi board that she was super excited about. “From the good Italian supermarket,” Rocco said, nodding his head. “That was probably made by an old nonna somewhere in Italy.”

“I’m gonna use it next week,” she said, her fingertips feeling the grooves, thinking about Morgan’s return to Toronto and how she cold make him homemade gnocchi now. When Bee thought all was said and done, she noticed one more box under the tree that nobody had touched. “What’s this one?” Bee asked, nodding towards the large box.

“Oh honey, that one’s for you,” Rocco said. “Your man friend dropped it off.”

She froze at the mention. She looked to Angie, who was actively avoiding her gaze. “You…you mean Morgan?”

“Mhm,” Rocco nodded his head. Josh handed her the box. “Came yesterday afternoon.”

She gulped. How did he even find the time to drive all the way up to North York to deliver it? What could he have gotten her? She…she didn’t get him anything. She wrote him a nice card and stuffed it into his carry-on as a surprise for him, but she didn’t explicitly buy him a gift for Christmas. She didn’t think he would for her either. She should have known better though. This was Morgan.

Bee ripped open the sides carefully, and in one long stretch, the wrapping paper was pulled back to reveal ‘Mulberry’ on the box. She froze again, her hand resting over the letters. She knew exactly what this was.

She looked up. The entire Favaro family was looking at her. She took a deep breath. She didn’t want to do this in front of them. “Can I…um…can I…”

“You can go to your room if you need to dear. I’ll start the hot chocolate,” Clarette nodded her head. She got up and pointed at all the wrapping paper, then pointed at her husband. “You. Clean that up.”

Bee picked up the box, half-wrapped, and scurried into her designated bedroom, plopping the box down on the bed before closing the door. She took a deep breath before ripping the rest of the paper off. When she opened the box, she lifted up the dust bag and pulled out the Amberley satchel bag in the most gorgeous and perfect oxblood colour. She had seen it with Lucy when they had gone shopping, and Bee had commented on how beautiful it was – the most perfect bag in the world besides the Birkin. Lucy urged her to get it, but there was no way Bee could have justified the purchase after the Chanel bag, the Louis Vuitton bag, and the Yves Saint Laurent bag. Lucy must have told Morgan, because of course she did. 

As Bee ran her fingertips over the pristine leather, she noticed two square outlines still in the dust bag. She couldn’t even fully take in the absolute beauty of the bag after noticing them. She set the satchel down gently and dug into the dust bag, pulling out two identical blue boxes with Birks ribbon wrapped around them.

Bee gulped. She had walked by the Birks storefront on Bloor Street West countless times, trying not to ogle the pretty and blindingly shiny diamonds in the window. Now she was holding two boxes from them in her hands. She was going to kill Morgan. Absolutely murder him.

She began to open one, delicately pulling on the ribbon and opening the box to reveal a stunning gold bracelet. Bee’s cheeks flushed as her fingertips felt the pearl and onyx. She tried to imagine it on her wrist – and realistically, she could have just taken it out of the box right then and there and put it on – but for some reason, she didn’t. It didn’t feel real to her; it didn’t feel like it was hers yet. She didn’t get gifts like this. She didn’t get expensive jewellery from boys – from _anyone_ – and it didn’t feel like it was meant for her, although she knew Morgan probably scoured the store or the website for _hours_ looking for the perfect gift.

The second box. She pulled the ribbon again, opening the box. What she saw inside made her chest tighten fiercely. Tears formed in her eyes automatically. A beautiful, delicate necklace, in matching gold, with a bumblebee medallion. For her. Bee.

Morgan’s Bumblebee.

She grabbed her phone and ripped it out of the charging socket before dialling Morgan’s number. As it rang, she barely registered that it was still only about 6am in Vancouver and he probably wasn’t even awake yet.

“Mornin’,” he mumbled into the phone, not bothering to say hello. “Merry Christmas.”

“Morgan…” she began, her voice cracking.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his tone immediately switching. The last time he got an unexpected phone call from her and she sounded like this, it wasn’t exactly the best.

“I’m _fine_,” she clarified, wiping a tear from her cheek. “But what’s _wrong_ with you?”

“What?”

“You’re nuts, Morgan. Absolutely nuts,” she continued. “This is a $1500 dollar bag. _More_, I think.”

“Yeah, so?”

“I can’t accept this!”

“Wait, what? Is it the wrong one? Lucy said you loved it in the store!” he got worried.

“Morgan…I love it, it’s gorgeous, it’s the most perfect bag ever created aside from the Hermes Birkin, but I can_not_ accept this as a gift.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a $1500 bag!”

“I feel like we’re going around in circles here,” he admitted. “That’s the bag you liked, right? Lucy was adamant that that’s the one you liked. The colour and everything.”

“Morgan, it _is_, but --”

“The bag isn’t even the important part,” he interrupted her. “Did you find the jewellery?”

“_Yes_,” Bee said, and at the mention of the jewellery, new tears fell down her cheeks. “Morgan, why are you like this?” she asked, not knowing how to word it in any other way.

“Briony…”

“Why are you so nice to me? Why do you buy me nice gifts all the time?” she asked, trying not to let her voice crack.

“Bumblebee,” he began, his voice sombre. “How many times do I have to tell you that you deserve it?” he asked rhetorically.

“You know that you don’t need to like…buy my relationship, right?” she asked. “I’m not some girl that needs to be bought. I’d still be with you if you weren’t a rich hockey player. I’d still like you and still cook for you. I came from absolutely nothing and I can go back to nothing. I’d give all that stuff back if I had to.”

“I know Bumblebee, I know. But I’m gonna keep repeating it until it gets to you. You deserve nice things. I want to spoil you because you deserve it, not because I’m trying to buy you or anything. You. Deserve. Nice. Things. For. Once. In. Your. Life.”

Bee tried to take his words to heart, but it was hard. It was hard to take to heart when she wasn’t used to it. It was hard to take to heart when growing up, Christmases and birthdays weren’t celebrated because it wasn’t affordable. It was hard to take to heart when since sixteen years old she had been literally counting pennies to stay afloat. Most importantly, it was hard to take to heart when her mother told her she didn’t deserve anything. “Thank you Morgan. I really…I really love the bumblebee necklace.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah,” she said, wiping away the last of her tears. “It’s beautiful. I’m gonna think of you whenever I see it or touch it.”

“Good,” he said. “My Bumblebee.”

There was a moment of silence. “I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything.”

“Um, what you got me Friday night was enough,” he said, chuckling slightly.

Thoughts of that night came rushing back to her and she felt a shiver go up her spine. It was probably the best sex she’d ever had. Memories of it still flashed through her mind from time to time. If she got lost in her thoughts, she could still feel Morgan pounding into her or pulling her hair. She still had the marks on her ass to remind her too. “Yeah. That…that was good,” she said quietly, trying not to get too riled up thinking about it.

“When I come back, I wanna fuck you wearing only that necklace,” he said in an equally quiet voice. His tone sent more shivers down her spine. “Unless you have some other pieces you’re waiting to surprise me with…”

She smiled. She thought about some of the other sets of lingerie she bought and wondered how he would react to them. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

He groaned in response. She giggled and he groaned some more. “You’re such a fucking tease. _Fuck_. I woke up hard dreaming about what I’m going to do to you when I get back.”

“This is the Lord’s Day,” she joked. “I don’t think he appreciates your dirty mind or you getting hard the morning of his birthday.”

He groaned even louder and she let out a heart laugh. “Don’t remind me. We still have to go to Church.”

“Will I be able to talk to you later today?” she asked.

“Absolutely,” he said. “After my wine drunk nap I take after lunch, I’ll call you. So maybe three or four my time.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “Merry Christmas, Morgan.”

“Merry Christmas, Briony.”

She paused before hanging up the phone, wondering if there was anything else to say.

*

The Eaton’s Centre was _packed_. Bee tried to get Angie to wake up on time so they could at least get there at mall opening, but Angie was a bitch in the morning and liked to sleep in, so they were late. It was 10am by the time they arrived, and shoppers were in full swing. Angie was doing a majority of the shopping anyway; Bee didn’t exactly need anything more. Maybe she’d pick up a book or two.

But first, coffee.

As they stood in line in the Starbucks at Indigo, Bee looked down at her phone to field some more messages from another round of bots that seemed to have infiltrated her Instagram. She began automatically deleting the messages until one message in particular caught her eye.

_R u dating morgan rielly? Do I have ur attention now? U didn’t answer me last time._

She furrowed her eyebrows. Who was this person? She clicked on the profile, but whoever it was had it on private; the only thing Bee could see was a half-face selfie of a girl who looked five years younger than she did with false lashes and lipstick. She went back to her inbox, deciding not to delete the message. Instead, she took the opportunity to actually _read_ what was being sent to her. It became adamantly clear to her these accounts weren’t bots.

_If you’re dating Morgan shouldn’t you be prettier and skinnier?_ Sent from a girl with a bikini shot as her profile picture.

_are the leafs wags as nice as everyone says? i wanna become one who is single?_ Sent from a girl who didn’t look older than 12.

_Cut your hair. It doesn’t look good._

_Do you really think Morgan doesn’t cheat on you when they’re on the road? Hockey guys have bunnies in every city._

_Ur just a puckbunny wanting morgan’s money. stay away from him!!!!!!!!!!_

_You’re such a slut. Stay away from Morgan._

_Just another puckbunny making her way around the leafs. You are pathetic._

“Grande caramel macchiato with coconut milk for Briony!”

_So u go to u of t and u think ur smart? Whatever bitch_

_What does Rielly see in you? You’re so ugly_

“Bee, you should grab your drink before someone else steals it.”

_Why don’t u post pics w morgan_

_Can you please post pics with morgan so we can see_

_Why are you so close with some of the wags but not with others?_

_I hope u know morgan prob just keeps you around as a fuckbuddy. He’s got them all over the city. There were hundreds of girls before you, and there will be hundreds of girls after you. Actually, there are prob hundreds of girls DURING you too._

“BRIONY!” Angie’s voice screaming her name pulled her out of her trance. When she looked up, Angie was holding both their drinks, shoving her caramel macchiato towards her. “What’s so important on your phone?”

“N-Nothing,” she said, locking her screen and shoving her phone into her jacket pocket.

“Did Morgan send you a dick pic?”

“Can you not?” Bee slapped the arm of her best friend. “You’re so crude. You’re just like your brother.”

“Well, same genes and all.”

“Where are we going first?” Bee changed the subject.

“We need to go to Sephora. If the Nars Sheer Glow is as good as you say it is then I need to get some.”

As Briony followed Angie around in Sephora, she tried to get rid of the thoughts swirling around her head about the messages from the random girls. She assumed this is what Morgan meant when he said some Leafs fans could be crazy and obsessive. But were these fans? Or did these girls just want to hook up with Morgan?

As Angie chatted with a Sephora consultant about her foundation shade, Bee took out her phone again to see the rest of the messages that were sent to her. A lot of them were variations of the messages she had read earlier. Some accounts had even messaged her multiple times.

_Can u pls post pics with mo where u show his face pls ppl are wondering if ur dating him and we need to know_

_Aren’t you a little too fat to be a wag?_

_What’s stephh lachancee like in person shes so pretty_

_Ur a puckslut. Ur only after Mo’s money. U should be ashamed of urself_

_Everybody knows you’re dating Morgan so there’s no point in hiding it anymore. The more you deny it the more we’re gonna message you. Just post a pic with him already. Get over yourself. You’re such an attention seeker by NOT posting a pic with him and it’s honestly ridiculous. Stop lying and stop trying to play coy._

Bee mostly wondered where these people got the audacity to send her such messages. She didn’t understand why they were being so hostile, and why they wanted information about something that was so clearly private. Did they just think she would message them back? That she’d reveal juicy, salacious details about their relationship? That she’d send them pictures of Morgan that were on her camera roll? What exactly did they _want_?

As she started to delete all the messages, she heard giggles and saw two girls out of the corner of her eye. They were whispering to each other something Briony couldn’t hear because of all the commotion in Sephora, but then she swore, she _swore_ she heard the iPhone camera shutter sound. She looked up immediately to see the girls giggling at something on the phone they were looking at. The phone wasn’t in her direction, but Bee got self-conscious. When they both looked up from the screen at the same time and noticed Bee staring at them, they stopped giggling.

“Are you taking a picture of me?” she asked.

The one girl, with the phone in her hand, looked like a deer caught in the headlights. It was her friend that came to her rescue when she piped up, “No no! We’re not! We just _love_ your Chanel bag.”

Bee looked down at the bag, the one Morgan had technically paid for, with pearls adorned all over it, the logo still shining against the leather and satin material. She looked back up at the girls, who were still looking at her. “Um, thanks?” Bee didn’t know what else to say.

“Where’d you get it?” the one with the phone asked. These girls weren’t older than sixteen.

Bee gave her a look. “At Chanel…?” her response came out more as a question than a statement. Where else would she buy a Chanel bag?

“Right. Of course. Sorry if we…we just really liked your bag,” they scurried away, looking mortified but still smiling at each other as they ran out of Sephora, looking down at the girl’s phone.

“Bee?! Where’d you go? I found the shade!” Angie’s voice called from the next aisle, her head slightly above the top shelf. “Come here!”

Bee returned to the Nars aisle, and saw that the beauty expert had matched her skin tone perfectly. “That looks amazing, Angie.”

“Where’d you go?” Angie asked, grabbing the foundation from the beauty expert and putting it in her basket.

“I just had teenage girls take a picture of my bag,” Bee said, shaking her head in disbelief still that it had happened. “That was…I’ve never had that happen to me before.”

Angie shrugged her shoulders. “It _is_ a nice Chanel bag.”


	17. Chapter 16

Bee had her outfit laid out on the chair in Morgan’s room, but she ignored it while she lied in bed with him and felt his fingers move in and out of her lazily, making her squirm for how sensitive she was getting but also making her mad for how slowly he was taking this. They faced each other in the bed, her leg hooked over his, and he was holding her in his free arm; so soft and so gentle but also biting down on her skin and licking at her breasts and telling her what a good girl she was being as she kept trying to grind harder on his hand between her legs, only for him to pull away momentarily or go even slower which would drive her fucking _insane_.

She still needed to take a shower. She still needed to style her hair and do her makeup. Her winged eyeliner alone took her like ten minutes. But here she was. Morgan was fingering her in his bed, and there was no way she was going to leave.

They were definitely going to be late to Auston’s New Year’s Eve party.

When he got back from his Christmas break in Vancouver and from the road game they played in Columbus, he seemingly couldn’t keep his hands off her. She didn’t know what it was or what had gotten into him, but the second he arrived back in the city he’d called her, and by the first two minutes she was over his apartment, he’d pinned her against his door and was in her. _Literally_. The following night, after an upsetting loss to the Islanders at Scotiabank Arena, they went back to her place and engaged in four or five different rounds of sex throughout the night. Yesterday, though she was out a majority of the day with Angie, she kept getting messages from him explaining what he wanted to do to her that night. When she got home, he ate her out like she was the last meal on earth, until she felt like she was going to have a heart attack, which was apparently common for her now. Even then, he let her relax for a bit until he went for a round two.

Everybody enjoyed good sex. _Everybody_. And when it becomes so available, nobody really passes on the opportunity. Including her. She loved feeling good, and she loved that _he_ was the one able to make her feel so good, because he was a damn good lover, and a _very_ generous one at that (she was generous too, let’s not get the story wrong here), but she wondered where all of this was coming from. He told her he was just making up for lost time, but they had only been apart from each other for five days. They’d been apart from each other longer, even just recently, and he hadn’t acted this way when he came back.

“You’re being such a good girl for me,” he whispered, curling his fingers in her and making her whimper loudly. They’d resumed much of their dirty talk, too, after they had explored it before Christmas. It was a staple now. She couldn’t believe how much it turned her on and added to the whole experience. “You like when I touch you like this, don’t you?” he asked.

“Yes,” she nodded her head. “You always make me feel so good Morgan.”

He slipped another finger into her, and she writhed at the sensation of his fingers curling in her, hitting the spot she so desperately needed to hit. He smiled and bit his lip. “So good for me baby. So wet. So fucking wet.” He lowered his head to kiss and bite at her neck. He looked down to her boobs spilling out of her blush pink bra and curled his fingers again, making her grind onto his hand.

“I’m so close Mo,” she said desperately. “_Please_. Go faster. Go _harder_.”

“No,” he denied her. “We’re gonna take it nice and slow.”

“_Morgan_.”

“Nice and slow,” he repeated, taking his fingers almost fully out of her as punishment, garnering another whimper from her. He pushed them back in at an excruciatingly slow pace, and she wanted to kill him.

“Morgan, _please_,” she was frantic. “I want to come so bad.”

“_Nice and slow_,” he repeated, and she could only toss her head back and moan at his insistency before accepting her fate.

She didn’t know how long they were lying there for, but when he slipped in yet another finger, and curled them all against her walls, it all became too much for her, and soon, she was completely gone. Her orgasm washed over her, slow and powerful as it made its way throughout her whole body, and she was shaking from the sheer intensity of it. She closed her thighs around his hand as he continued his movements, letting her ride it out for as long as possible. He finally stopped when her body stopped shaking, and he took the opportunity to bring the hand that was buried in her up to his mouth. They stared at each other as he sucked his fingers, loving the taste of her.

“_Fuck_,” she muttered, barely waiting for her fingers to leave his mouth before she crashed her lips onto his, desperate to taste too. He made her fucking crazy. Her body was a puddle off goo from her orgasm but he continued to find ways, the simplest of ways, to get her hot and bothered. “You are a fucking _gift_, Morgan Rielly.”

“Hmm, so are you,” he mumbled in between kissing, trying to pull her body on top of him. “The things I would do to you. _God_. Get up here.”

“Moooo,” she whined. It was taking everything in her not to give in. “I’ve gotta shower.”

“Shower? For what?”

“For Auston’s party, dummy.”

“Ugh, _whatever_,” he groaned. “Do we have to go? We have much better things we could be doing.”

Bee snorted. “_Yes_ we have to go. He’s your friend – _our_ friend – and he’s expecting us to be there. I even made cupcakes.”

He groaned again, moving to lie down on his back since he knew he wasn’t going to win. “Why do you have to be such a good person?”

She shook her head at his question. “That must be the horny talking. If I get anymore action after what’s been going on these past couple of days they’re gonna have to put ‘Death by Morgan Rielly’s dick’ on my gravestone.”

It was his turn to snort. “Well what do you expect when you have a nice pink bra like that on?” he asked rhetorically.

She looked down quickly at her bra. Blush coloured, satin with some lace. Expensive, of course; or at least more than what she had previously paid for her bras. It fit well, cupped her breasts perfectly, didn’t tug at her skin or give her indents. The straps didn’t fall down her arms like they usually did. She unclasped her bra and threw it at him, garnering a smile as it landed on his chest. She gave him a wink before turning and walking into the bathroom to turn on the shower. In the full-length mirror in the washroom, she looked at her body until the mirror began to fog. She saw her tummy a little fuller thanks to Christmas; she saw her hips and thighs, wide as ever; she saw her arms lead up to her shoulders, now peppered with love bites.

Morgan had never mentioned anything about bras or panties or lingerie before she went on her shopping spree with the girls. But now, with all the new satin and lace and bodysuits and baby dolls (though he’d only really seen the bodysuit in terms of lingerie), he couldn’t keep his hands off her. He’d comment on the colour, the material, how good it made her boobs look, how good it made her ass look. While she obviously enjoyed the compliments, and the hunger derived from it, she wondered if he thought these things before all the satin and lace. Before the bodysuits and baby dolls. Before the nice clothes and Chanel bags.

Morgan never once made her feel self-conscious about her body – in fact, it was the exact opposite – but she still couldn’t help but feel so. She knew he was attracted to her in every way. But did he like her better when she looked more put together, more sophisticated, like the other wives and girlfriends? Did he like her better with her new hair, the makeup, the nice shoes and designer bags? He’d always compliment on how good a pair of jeans fit her, or how her boobs looked in a top. If she went back to the basic tops and pants, and outfits that she wore only weeks ago, would he still be attracted to her? Could she still be with him? Could she still be _comfortable_ with him, knowing how much he seemed to love her new look? Would _he_ be comfortable with _her_ going back to that look? Or would he be embarrassed?

She stepped out of the shower, wrapping her hair in a towel before throwing on one of his bathrobes. When she emerged, all the steam from the hot water escaping with her, she found Morgan still on the bed, scrolling through his phone. He looked over at her and gave her a smile. Her shower thoughts were still on her mind as she gave him a small smile back, walking over to the bed and sitting on the edge. She felt him move so that he was on his knees behind her.

“I have a question for you,” he said in a low voice, placing a quick kiss on the exposed skin between the bathrobe and the towel wrapped around her head.

“No, we cannot skip Auston’s party,” she answered.

He let out a small chuckle. “No no, not that. Um, on January 21st the team has this big fundraiser at the Fairmont Royal York. It’s called the Night With Blue and White,” he explained. “It’s the biggest charity event we do. All the proceeds to go the MLSE Launchpad. It’s, like, $10,000 a table, and Rogers and all these other companies sponsor it.”

“And?”

“And it’s a gala event. And I’d like it if you can be there with me. So will you come?”

She couldn’t help but smile. His tone was so serious, so hesitant; as if he was worried she would say no. As if she’d say no. “Of course I’ll come. You want me there?”

“Of course I do,” he said gently, unwrapping the towel from her head to let her wet hair cascade down, giving her another kiss in the same spot between her shoulder and neck.

She thought about the event, how many rich and important people would be there mingling and donating obscene amounts of money for the cause. She thought about the glamour of it all, of all the women in high heels and expensive dresses, the men in dapper suits and pockets as deep as their company’s chequebook. She thought about the historic venue, the flashing lights, the catered food and the deluxe bar.

She thought about what she’d have to wear. How much she’d have to get done up. Going out to buy a fancy dress. Going to get her hair done.

“I already know you’re going to look so good that night,” he said, dragging his lips along the skin on her neck. “You’ll knock ‘em all dead.”

She hesitated, her thoughts giving her so much anxiety. “Morgan?”

“Mhm?”

“Do you like me more with all the nice clothes?”

Morgan stopped dead in his tracks. He couldn’t believe she could be thinking something like that, so…so _untrue_, so incorrect and so mistaken and so fallacious. His stomach was in knots as the words hung heavy in the air. He didn’t know how to express his thoughts. Words were a foreign concept to him. “Briony…I…_what_?”

“You know what, it’s alright,” she said hurriedly. “Forget I asked. Forget it.”

He wasn’t going to let this one go. There was _no fucking way_ he was going to let this one go. “No no no, hold on,” he said, practically jumping off the bed to kneel in front of her. She wouldn’t even look at him. “Briony. Look at me.”

“No. Just forget it.”

“Briony,” he said sternly. Her eyes met his and they were already welling up with tears – he didn’t know if it was from embarrassment or sadness or whatever else. “What do you mean _‘Do you like me more with all nice clothes’_?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Have I not been showing you enough how much I love your body?” he asked.

She shook her head vehemently. “It’s not that. I know that you love my body.”

“Then what is it?”

“ Do you only love my body when it has nice clothes on it?”

“Briony, _no_,” he said firmly, the whole concept completely absurd to him.

“Because I’ve noticed…I don’t know. You haven’t been able to keep your hands off me since I got all the nice stuff. And I’m not complaining about you not being able to keep your hands off me, because you know I would never complain about _that_, but I can’t help but feel like ever since I started dressing nicer there’s been this…_change_.”

“What _change_?”

“That you’re, like…” she was scared to say the next part. But she knew that if she didn’t get it off her chest it would be on her mind forever. She didn’t want to start the New Year with these types of thoughts. “You’re more attracted to me because I look better now. Because I don’t look so cheap and so poor and this is some sort of _new_ Briony that doesn’t look like the _old_ Briony and you like the _new_ Briony much better, even though the _old_ Briony, like, the _character_ of Briony, is still the same despite all the designer clothes.”

He felt sick to his stomach that she was feeling this way and hadn’t told him up until now. Absolutely sick to his fucking stomach. “Briony, it’s not like that _at all_,” he stressed. “To me, there’s no old Briony and new Briony. There’s just _Briony_. I don’t…I…there’s no distinction to me. You’re the same Briony but with new clothes. But those new clothes don’t matter. I don’t care if you wear head to toe Gucci or not. You can wear a burlap sac for all I care. I’d still…I’d never, _never --_”

“You’re always saying how good I look, how good my boobs or my butt looks, and it’s nice, but I don’t know if --”

“I say those things because I want you to feel confident about yourself!” he exclaimed. “I know you’re still getting used to all this. I just want you to feel comfortable after you felt so violated from the break and enter. I can’t believe you would feel like this and not tell me. Bumblebee, I don’t care what you look like. I don’t care. That’s not important to me,” he was so desperate to get his point across he was almost on the verge of tears.

She sniffled, holding back any more tears she had as much as possible. “You don’t?”

“No, Briony. No. _God,_” he muttered under his breath. “Briony, you have no idea. You have no idea how much I feel like the luckiest guy in the room by just _standing_ beside you.”

She took a deep breath. “Okay…okay…”

“The only thing I care about is you feeling good about yourself, and it doesn’t matter what you wear to make you feel that way” he said. “And if there’s anything that I can do to help with that, you need to tell me, because I’d rather fucking die than make you feel uncomfortable or have you think I only like you when you look a certain way.”

She nodded her head. She understood now. She got it. “Okay,” she said softly, nodding her head.

“Briony, I’m serious. You need to tell me these things. I don’t like that you think I’m only attracted to you because of the clothes on your body. That cannot be further from the truth,” he said.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize. Just…talk to me, okay? Don’t bottle this stuff in. There are a million things that are loveable about you and none of them have to do with the way you look.”

“I won’t. I’m sorry. I won’t.”

He learned forward and wrapped his arms around her. He didn’t want to let go. He _couldn’t_ let go. Not until she felt what he had just been trying to tell her; not until she knew he meant every word of what he just said, and would keep saying it to her until she knew he meant it.

*

“You guys are late,” Auston said as Morgan and Briony walked through his door. He was already, maybe, a little bit drunk, but he was in the privacy of his own home so he really didn’t care.

“Is it past midnight?” Morgan asked.

“No.”

“Then we’re not late,” he shrugged his shoulders.

“_Wow_.”

“We had an emergency with the cupcakes,” Briony lied, holding them up for Auston to see.

“Cupcakes? You made _cupcakes_?”

“Only for you, Auston,” she winked, showing him the intricately decorated confectionery.

His eyes went wide as he admired the icing and decoration. He looked at Briony like she had just presented him with a golden compass. “Are you sure you don’t have a sister I can hook up with? Are you _positive_?”

“Even if I did I wouldn’t let her date you,” she took the cupcakes away from him.

“That hurts.”

Before Bee could respond, a loud ‘_Auston!’_ was heard from somewhere inside the condo, and Morgan, Bee, and Auston watched as a blonde girl waved at him, motioning for him to come back to his dining room table, where he had set up beer pong. Bee couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m sure you’ll get over it soon.”

As Auston went back to his lady friend, Bee and Morgan made their way into the apartment, finding Fred, Tyler, Zach and Alannah, and John and Aryne. Travis Dermott and his girlfriend brought her friends, Kasperi Kapanen was with a lady friend who happened to bring _her_ friends, and Mitch Marner and Steph were there, surrounded by a few of _her_ friends. Overall, it was a pretty full party, and Bee immediately found comfort and solace with Aryne and Alannah.

“Giiiiirl! That bag looks _so good_,” Aryne hugged her tightly, grabbing the Chanel bag in both hands. “I should have gotten one for myself.”

“You can’t. This is Bee’s bag now,” Alannah laughed as she moved to hug Bee as well. “How’ve you been? How’s the new place?”

“Oh, it’s great,” Bee smiled. “Views are amazing, building’s amazing…I mean compared to what I had, this place is off the charts.”

“I know you’re busy trying to find a job, but we should all have a girl’s night soon,” Alannah suggested. “I can bring over a stack of wedding magazines. Lord knows I need to start making some choices.”

“Don’t say that too loud,” Aryne rolled her eyes a bit, discreetly nodding over to the sexy, longhaired bleach blonde standing next to Kasperi who was sipping on a tallboy. She was very, _very_ attractive, and Bee could understand why she was Kasperi’s current flavour. “Cassidy might overhear and invite herself.”

“Are we…are we not…” Bee was a bit confused.

“She’s been on her phone more than she’s talked to Kappy tonight,” Alannah said. “She pretended to act dumb but she definitely knows who everybody in this room is. I don’t get a good vibe from her.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Bee asked. “Knowing everybody here, I mean? Wouldn’t you rather have it that way?”

“Not the way that she knows everybody,” Aryne said. “You know how you know everybody as just, like, Zach or John or Fred or whatever? You don’t care? She _knows_ and _sees_ people as Zach Hyman of the Toronto Maple Leafs, John Tavares of the Toronto Maple Leafs, Frederik Andersen of the Toronto Maple Leafs,” she explained. “It’s all about status to her. She knows she’s at a party at Auston Matthews’s apartment with a bunch of Leafs players. She’s probably putting it all over her Snapchat or Instagram stories, pretending to be discreet about it, but really showing off where she is and who she’s with. Girls like that are all the same.”

“Fame hungry?” Bee clarified.

“Exactly. Just waiting for someone to pick up on it and start talking about them so their name gets out there. I bet she’s an Instagram model or has her own YouTube channel where she models bikinis she gets sent from FashionNova. They’re all the same.”

“Aryne!” Alannah giggled. “Tell me what’s really on your mind why don’t you!”

“Listen. My New Year’s resolution is to try to be less judgemental as a whole but for girls like that, I can’t help it,” Aryne giggled slightly. “They’re so transparent it’s almost comical. And it’s always the young guys who fall for them.”

“Anyways,” Alannah put an end to the conversation with just one word. She didn’t want to be talking about girlfriends of the month the whole night. “Has Morgan told you about the Night with Blue and White?” she asked.

Bee blushed. “Uh, yeah. He actually asked me tonight.”

“And you’re coming?” Aryne asked. Bee nodded her head. “_Eeeeeeeeeeeeeep_!” Aryne squealed loudly. “Oh my God this is gonna be so fun! We’re going to need to go shopping for dresses! And _shoes_!”

“It’s honestly such a fun night,” Alannah smiled. “We’re going to have a blast. You get to meet so many people. It’ll actually be _so_ good for you considering you’re on the job hunt.”

Bee hadn’t even considered that. She hadn’t considered that it could be a great opportunity for her, rather than just some event put on by the Leafs that she would accompany Morgan to. She never considered that she would be mingling with people who could hire her. Now she _really_ wanted to go. Of course she’d be there primarily to support Morgan, but it didn’t hurt that she’d be able to try and land a job interview. “That’s actually a great point…” she said.

“I’m a smart girl,” Alannah winked.

*

_“Somebody get the champagne ready!”_

_“Pour it out! Pour it out!”_

_“Save some to pop!”_

Morgan was drunk. The smiley kind of drunk. The kind of drunk where all he wanted to do was put his hands on Bee’s ass and keep them there. But he still had some semblance of a conscience – he knew that in public spaces that was frowned upon, especially in front of friends, so he tried his hardest to rid the thoughts from his mind as some more sober members of the group (Zach, Fred) poured the champagne into plastic flutes for the entire party.

It was a little over five minutes until the countdown, and everybody was getting excited. Morgan couldn’t remember how much alcohol he drank. It was a lot. What he could remember was talking to Zach about how much he liked Bee, how he wanted to take her back home to Vancouver so bad, how he loved the smell of her hair and waking up with his face buried in it in the morning. Zach could only laugh, as he was the sober one being designated driver, and he kept commenting how bad Morgan had it for her, and Morgan could only nod and drink more beer and talk more about how much he liked her before he moved on to Fred and told him the exact same thing. Now, with the countdown soon approaching, everybody began to pair up with their significant others.

“Mo gets his own bottle of champagne!” Auston yelled, handing him a bottle, to which everybody cheered at. Morgan took the bottle, noticing the cork was already half out. He didn’t want to hold on to it without holding on to Bee. He looked around the room for her.

Bee was standing next to Aryne, who was smoothing down her husband’s shirt, looking down at her phone. She hadn’t noticed Morgan looking for her because she was too busy reading a barrage of messages that had made their way to her Instagram inbox.

_lmao i bet morgan bought u that chanel bag. doesn’t that mean he’s ur sugar daddy??? ur pathetic_

_now u think ur hot shit always wearing that chanel bag everywhere_

_You wear that Chanel bag everywhere now bc you want everyone to know Morgan bought it for you. You reek of desperation. Don’t think we didn’t know it was you in Sephora just bc the pic was blurry._

_don’t think we don’t see u in cassidy’s videos from the party. ur prob begging her to include u. ur literally so desperate its insane_

_no clue what morgan sees in you. you’re not as pretty as any of the other wags and you don’t fit in either. you prob won’t last long. _

_Yet again ur at a party w the leafs but decide not to post pics or videos, making other ppl like kappy’s girl post them with u in them. Ur not very smart r u? the game ur playing is dumb. _

Bee felt an arm wrap around her shoulders, and looked up to see Morgan, a drunken grin plastered on his face. He was clutching an entire bottle of champagne. She locked her phone screen immediately. She knew just by looking at him that he was too drunk to read, but she didn’t want to take the chance of him seeing the messages. “Hello, stranger,” she smiled.

“Hey sexy,” he tried to wink, but just ended up blinking really hard. She snorted at his attempt. “You ready to blow this popsicle stand?”

“How drunk _are_ you?” she asked.

“I’m…” he couldn’t find the right words. “I’m right on it. Right on the line.”

“And why do you have an entire bottle of champagne?”

“Matts wanted me to have it,” he said, bringing it up to her lips, pretending to pour it. “For the countdown. Are you gonna countdown with me?”

“Of course I am,” she smiled.

As they made their way near the front of the TV, which was showing the live broadcast from Nathan Phillips Square in downtown Toronto – 90 seconds to go! – Morgan’s arm was still draped around Bee’s shoulders. Bee wrapped an arm around his waist to try and steady his drunken rocking form side to side. When she did so, he bent his head down to kiss her temple. “I know I’m piss drunk right now but can I tell you something?”

“Of course,” she said quietly.

_Thirty! Twenty-nine! Twenty-eight!_

“Every fuckin’ day I thank my lucky stars that someone sent a drink to your table pretending to be me,” he mumbled. The hair on the back of Bee’s neck stood on end. “Every. Fuckin’. Day. Like, you don’t even understand Briony. Everyday.”

It was at that moment that Bee realized that it didn’t matter what anonymous messages she received, what they had to say, or how they said things about her. What mattered – besides her privacy, her integrity, and her humility – was that Morgan was standing next to her, arm draped around her, bottle of champagne in his hand. It didn’t matter that they thought she was fat, that they thought she was tacky, an attention-seeker, desperate, didn’t fit in, whatever else – what mattered was that she was with Morgan. They weren’t. As petty as that sounded, it was _her_ standing next to him, _her_ who shared a bed with him, _her_ who he called before every game.

_Ten! Nine! Eight!_

It was _her_ who got to kiss him at midnight.

_Seven! Six! Five!_

“I thank my lucky stars you sent a drink to my table,” she smiled. This would be their ongoing joke; her saying he sent a mojito to her table, him maintaining it wasn’t him and that she got pranked. She’d never let him live it down.

_Four! Three! Two! One!_

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” the entire party yelled in unison, and Morgan took the opportunity to wrap Bee further into his body with the arm that was around her shoulders before he bent his neck to place a giant kiss on her lips. She reciprocated until she felt him start to shake the champagne bottle. She pulled away so he could pop it quickly, causing another cheer from the crowd before he brought the oozing fizz to his lips. Ever the gentleman, he gave Bee a swig before kissing her again, both of them tasting like champagne. They kissed for much longer this time, Morgan not willing to pull away, and Bee not willing to deny him, even in his drunken state, even though she was sure all the other couples had stopped.

When they finally did pull away, Bee looked around quickly to see some other couples. John was cradling Aryne’s baby bump, and Bee thought she was going to cry right then and there; Zach was still macking on Alannah, who didn’t seem to mind; and Cassidy, right beside them, was recording Kappy making a smoochie face against hers. It was all very cute.

“You want s’more champagne?” Morgan asked.

Bee shook her head. She brought her hand up to the back of his neck, pulling him down to kiss her again.

*

Morgan sobered up a bit by the time they decided to call it a night. He stuck to water and was well enough to walk on his own by 2am. Bee had watched over him like a hawk, making sure he was drinking glass after glass of water. She wasn’t exactly capable of hauling a 200+ pound hockey player home.

Although the party had died down significantly – John and Aryne had left not long after the countdown, as had some others – there were still people hanging about. Auston was plastered. Fred and Tyler were sleeping over, thankfully, and Fred had already begun the clean up, like the responsible adult he was.

“We should say goodbye to Auston, at least,” Morgan said when he finished slipping on his shoes. Bee nodded her head and they wandered through his apartment hand in hand to find him.

It didn’t take long. The second Bee saw Auston, she snorted out in laughter. He had her homemade cupcakes in front of him, one in his hand, and he was completely going to town on it. _Completely_ going to town. There was icing all over his face, all over his nose, and he opened his jaw as much as possible to get the entire height of the cupcake and all the icing in his mouth at once. It was hilarious. He looked like a kid.

She took out her phone and took a few pictures of him, and he didn’t even notice. She even took the opportunity to take a video. After he finished the cupcake, he didn’t even hesitate to grab another one and peel off the wrapping paper. The video was shaking for how hard she was laughing. “You having a good time there, Matts?” Bee asked. He looked absolutely ridiculous.

When he noticed them, he didn’t even care. He took a massive bite out of the cupcake, getting more icing all over his face and nose. “Bee…_fuck_,” he moaned.

“That your new girl Matts?” Morgan joked. Auston nodded his head. Morgan snorted. At that point, she ended the video, knowing she had good blackmail against him now. Auston was completely gone. “Night buddy. Don’t forget to wrap it up if you’re gona eat her. Things can get out of hand easily.”


	18. Chapter 17

Bee passed all her exams. She was graduating with a 3.8 GPA. Straight As in every course she took. Her graduation ceremony was in June. She’d officially have earned a Master’s in Financial Economics.

She did it.

When she got the email from the registrar’s office, it was early on a Saturday morning. She was at her apartment, stuffing cereal into her face. Morgan was at morning practice for the game they had against Vancouver that night. She knew because of practice she wouldn’t be able to get a hold of him, so she called Angie and screamed about it on the phone, and Angie, in turn, screamed back. Mason screamed at Angie’s screaming, and when he learned why she was screaming, started screaming about it too. Just one big scream-fest. She messaged the girls about it in their group chat, and they all congratulated her, already making plans to go out and celebrate.

When Morgan arrived at her place, Bee was still giddy with excitement. Having seen her flurry of texts to him after she couldn’t get a hold of him on the phone, he picked her up and spun her around, flooding her face with kisses. His congratulations were many, as he kept repeating over and over how proud he was of her. The celebration was lengthy, but, in typical Bee fashion, she put a halt to it when she announced that she now needed to work on her resume and send in job applications so she could get a job as soon as possible. Morgan couldn’t help but laugh.

After about two weeks of applications, with a day of shopping in between with Aryne so she could buy a dress for the Night With Blue and White gala, she had no bites. It was a little demoralizing, but she knew these things took time. She also knew the Night with Blue and White would be another opportunity for her, regardless of the time and place, to try and land something. Maybe she was being opportunistic, maybe she was being a little bit devious or scheming, but she needed to do what she needed to do to survive. It was all she ever knew – survival. She couldn’t live on the benevolence of others for forever. She couldn’t keep mooching off her friends. She needed to be a functioning and contributing member of society. She needed to pay some taxes. She needed to contribute to a benefits package. She needed a salary. She couldn’t just loaf around, waiting for a job to come to her.

Despite her drive to get a job, and despite relentlessly putting in applications to every position she was qualified for (even for those she was under- or over-qualified for), she had agreed to go to Vancouver with Morgan. He’d managed to convince her that it would be a nice break for her, that after the break-in and the moving and everything else, she could use a little vacation. It would be her first time on a plane. It would be her first time out of southern Ontario. She was nervous, but the thought of meeting his family – the parents that raised him, the brother that supported him – was an opportunity she couldn’t fathom missing. So she said yes. They’d be leaving on the morning of January 24th and would be coming back the night of January 30th. Six whole days in Vancouver.

But first, it was the Night With Blue and White.

Aryne goaded her into getting a beautiful floral dress and some scalloped heels for the occasion. Nothing they bought her before was fancy enough, she argued, so they had to go shopping. Bee had never been to such a fancy event, so she was taking Aryne’s lead as to how much to dress up. They’d even gone to get their hair done together before Aryne dropped her off back at her apartment. She’d been in the bathroom for half an hour, making sure to get her makeup just right. She knew Morgan was just waiting around; probably eating whatever was in her kitchen and getting food on his dress shirt.

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“Hey Bumblebee,” she heard his voice call out. She was shocked to hear it coming from right inside the bedroom. “Taxi is gonna be here in about ten minutes. Are you gonna be ready?”

She looked at her phone for the time. All she really needed to do was apply her lipstick and setting spray (who knew there was a spray to set your makeup? Not Bee) and she was good to go. “Yeah. I’ll be out in a minute.”

“I can call to delay it.”

“No no, it’s okay,” she said, grabbing the Charlotte Tilbury lipstick and applying a fresh coat to her lips.

When she opened the door, she saw Morgan sitting at the foot of the bed, leaning over to tie the laces on his dress shoes. When he looked her way and saw her in the doorframe, he immediately straightened out from his position, looking at her with a fire in his eyes. “Oh, Bumblebee…” he whispered to himself.

She saw the look on his face and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. His reaction – one of complete awe and reverence – was pretty new. She smiled and flattened out the bottom. “Does it look nice?”

She watched as he bit his lip, a smile appearing on his face. “You look divine.”

Divine. _Divine_. Nobody had ever described her as _divine_ before. She couldn’t help but smile at the word, and she was acutely aware that Morgan hadn’t taken his eyes off of her since she emerged from the bathroom. “You look quite dapper yourself,” she said, referring to his crisp blue suit and burgundy tie.

“I look like a bum next to you.”

Bee snorted. She made her way over to her side of the bed, where her shoes were, and sat to put them on. “Nah, you underestimate yourself. All those rich ladies are gonna be falling all over you.”

He got up from his seat at the foot of the bed and walked over to her. “I mean it Briony,” he said softly, squatting down and grabbing her foot to help her with her shoes. “You look incredible. Do you _feel_ incredible?”

She knew he was trying to gauge her comfort level. She knew this because she was in a fancy new dress, and fancy new heels, and she was going to a fancy event with fancy people and it was all new to her, and when she’d asked him on New Years Eve _‘Do you like me more with all the nice clothes?_’ some sort of internal switch flipped in him and now he was hyperaware of how she was feeling when they did stuff like this, or when they went out. She nodded at him as he worked on her other shoe. “I feel a bit nervous, but I’m very excited,” she admitted. “I know how much the cause means to you, and I know it’s going to be very busy, with people everywhere, but I’m looking forward to it.”

“Will you let me know if you feel uncomfortable?” he asked, hands gliding up her leg towards her thigh.

She slapped his hand away, scrunching up her face at him. “Yes,” she said, leaning forward to kiss him quickly before standing up and walking to the armoire to grab her purse. “We should start going downstairs. The taxi should be here soon.”

*

Briony McTavish was _mingling_. If her MFE taught her anything, it was that you should speak to everybody in the room, because you never know who they are, what they do, and if you can work with them. For an introvert like Bee, this was no small task, but as she became more comfortable with her surroundings and with the people in the room, she felt more at ease and willing to strike up conversations.

Morgan was busy doing interviews in the media line. They hadn’t arrived together – Bee went in first, the taxi took a lap around the block, then Morgan came in after – because there were cameras at the entrance taking video for the Leafs Nation Network and he didn’t want them walking in together to be on video. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that it was already out there, that there were rumours and rumblings about them, and she didn’t want to shatter what little control he thought he had about information on them and their relationship getting out.

She made herself busy by looking through all the auction items and gulping at the starting prices of the bids. $10,000 starting bid to go golfing with two Leafs players. $5000 starting bid to have a dinner in the Platinum Lounge with Brendan Shanahan. $2,000 to attend a personal training session with William Nylander. Was there a 25-cent lemonade stand somewhere? A $1 kissing booth that she could maybe contribute to? And those were just _starting_ bids. She knew some of them would go higher. And that was on top of the $10,000 to buy a table! How rich _were_ these people?

“Do you play golf?” the man beside her asked as he read the board with the auction prize beside her. “Angus Glen is a terrific club.”

Did she _look_ like she could afford to play that round of golf? She was about to say something before she remembered what she was wearing and where she was. It was her automatic reaction to say such a thing but now, times were different. Tonight, she _did_ look like she could afford to play that round of golf. “Oh no, not me,” she smiled politely. “I’m just looking at everything that’s available.”

“What were you thinking of bidding on?”

“I’m not bidding,” she admitted. “Um, my partner is Morgan Rielly, so we’re leaving it up to others to do the bidding.”

“Ah, of course,” the man smiled. “Morgan’s prize is pretty neat – the box seats with all the signed swag. My wife wanted to bid for our son. He’s a defenseman too – absolutely loves Rielly.”

“That’s fantastic,” Briony smiled. She gulped. She was going to do it. “I’m sorry, I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Briony McTavish,” she stuck out her hand.

“Pleased to meet you Briony,” the man stuck out his hand to shake hers. “I’m Mark Travers. My table and I – we’re all around somewhere --” he was motioning wildly around the room, “we’re here from Scotiabank.”

She perked up a little bit at the mention of Scotiabank, the anxiety now practically sprinting through her veins. “Oh, that’s amazing! I did an internship at Scotiabank last summer.”

“You did? What department?”

“Sales and Trading,” she said. “It was a requirement for my Master’s of Financial Economics at U of T. I just completed the program a few weeks ago, actually, and I’ve been looking to get back into th--”

“Are you looking for a position?” Mark interrupted her, albeit politely. “I mean, if you’ve completed your program.”

_Oh God oh God oh God._ “Yes! I’ve been applying to the Big Five,” she said. She was going to do it. _She was going to do it. DO IT! DO IT BRIONY!!!!!_ “I…I mean, I have my resume on Google Docs if --”

“Mmmmmm!” Mark hummed excitedly in response as he took a sip of his drink. “You can share it with me right now. We are looking to add more to our team,” he said, pulling out his phone. “Wow. I like someone who is prepared like this. I wasn’t expecting to network tonight but this is a pleasant surprise. Here, I’ll give you my email.”

Bee was going to throw up all over this man’s suit and shoes. Her hand trembled slightly as she added his email to the share screen, and he immediately pulled up her resume, scrolling through it slowly, making sure to read everything. His eyebrows raised, seemingly impressed at what he was reading. She was _actually_ going to throw up on this man’s shoes.

“It says here you were the recipient of the Richard Xi Scholarship,” he said as he continued to scroll.

“Yes sir. I’ve been only one of five women to gain the scholarship since it’s implementation twenty years ago.”

Mark looked at her. He turned a little to his left, tapping the shoulder of the person behind him to get his attention. “Richard! One of your grant students is here.”

Bee’s heart dropped into the pit of her stomach. _Oh my God. Oh my fucking GOD_. She was going to projectile vomit all over these men and never have a job in the banking industry. The man responsible for funding most of her tuition was standing right in fucking front of her. She was going to pass out. She was going to pass out and hit her head and go into a coma and wake up and realize this was all just a dream and --

“One of my students?” Richard asked, looking down at the phone. He smiled when he realized what Mark meant. “Ah! Ms. Briony McTavish! Hello!”

“Hi,” she let out in as strong of a voice as she could muster. She didn’t want to seem nervous around these men at all. She kept trying to remind herself that, fundamentally, there was nothing different about them; they were humans too. This was happening all because Mark asked her a question about golf. For the love of God, what was her life becoming? “It’s an honour to meet you Mr. Xi,” she shook his hand. “Thank you for --”

“There’s no need to thank me,” he said, waving her off, his attention still focused on Mark’s phone. “Oooh! Rotman Academic Scholarship too! That’s quite impressive Ms. McTavish.”

“Thank you Mr. Xi.”

“What’s your graduating GPA?”

“3.8.”

“And your professors?”

“Oh, this final semester it was Kopstein, Balot, Hausman, Linklater, and McQueen,” she named them off.

Richard chuckled slightly, giving Mark a slight nudge with his elbow. “You survived Linklater’s behavioural economics class, did you?”

Bee chuckled too, trying to go with the flow. “Yes sir.”

“And I see you’ve already done an internship at Scotiabank,” he finally looked up from the phone.

“Yes sir. I interned in Sales and Trading, which was fantastic, but I’m looking to get into financial analyst positions --”

“Oh, good. So you’d want to work for Mark’s department,” he nodded to his apparent friend. Mark gave her am excited smile. The butterflies in Bee’s stomach were going crazy.

“Uh, y-yes --”

“Well, we’re in Montreal and New York for meetings all next week,” he informed her. “And we know it’s the bye-week for these guys too. Are you free to come in…I don’t know, let’s say February 4th?” Mark asked.

She was going to die before she could even go for an interview. “Of course I am,” she nodded her head quickly. “I can come in anytime you’d like.”

“Who was your supervisor during your internship?” Mark asked.

“Dennis Laing. He --”

“Oh, Dennis!” Mark interrupted her. “I’ll call him for a reference. And I’ll make a call to the others you’ve listed as well.”

“Okay, great,” she smiled nervously. “Um, would you like me to bring anything? My portfolio, perhaps? Or --”

“You have a portfolio?” Mark and Richard asked at the same time.

“Well I have work from the internship I completed,” she informed them. “And I have sample work from U of T. I know it’s my courses, but I think it’s still a good representation of what I’d be able to accomplish with Scotiabank should I be hired,” she tried to be as confident as possible. “My work with investments is my strongest, which is why I want to pursue analyst positions.”

Mark and Richard smiled at each other before Mark turned his attention back to her. “Bring your portfolio,” he said, swiping his screen out of her resume to his calendar so he could add her name. “I’ll let my colleagues know you’re coming in…let’s say for 11am?”

“Sure.”

“11am,” he smiled. “I was very lucky to meet you tonight, Briony.”

“Oh, I think I’m the lucky one,” she giggled.

“I’ll come speak to you again later tonight. I’ll find you at your table,” he said, shaking her hand once more. “Think you can fix the Rielly prize for me?” he winked playfully.

“For you, Mr. Travers? I’ll see what I can do.”

*

“And then,” Bee huffed, in-between frantic kisses, “and then he tapped” _kiss_ “the shoulder” _kiss_ “of the guy behind him” _kiss_ “and it was Richard Xi” _kiss_ “the guy who funded my big scholarship.”

“Oh yeah?” Morgan kissed her, pulling down the zipper of he dress.

“Can you believe it?” she asked. _Kiss._ “So, long story short” _kiss _“I have a job interview February 4th.”

Morgan pulled away from her with an excited look on his face. “Really?”

“Really really,” she smiled.

“Well, this is cause for a _major_ celebration,” he pulled down her dress, revealing the navy blue bra and panties set she’d bought for the dress. “Mmmmmm, navy,” he licked his lips.

“You like?”

“If you wore burlap I’d still get hard,” he said, making her giggle as he leaned in to kiss her again. Her dress fell to the floor and they climbed into bed, Bee crawling on top of him. Thankfully, he had already shed his suit into a pile on the floor because he just couldn’t wait.

She bent down to kiss him, her breasts flush with his chest. He squeezed the ample flesh at her hips before moving back to her ass. She grinded against him slightly, and when she stopped kissing him, he moved to her clavicle and chest, kissing and licking his way down to her breasts.

_DING DING! DING DING! DING DING! DING DING! DING DING! DING DING! DING DING! DING DING! DING DING! DING DING! DING DING! DING DING! _

“What the fuck?” she wondered, unable to concentrate on what Morgan was doing because of the sound of her phone vibrating and alerting her of over ten messages.

“Ignore it,” he mumbled against her skin

“What if it’s Angie?” she asked. “What if it’s an emergency?”

“She’d be calling you,” he said quickly, but to no avail. She leaned over him, inadvertently shoving her breasts in his face, to reach onto the side table to grab her phone.

When she looked at her phone, there was a flurry of Instagram notifications flooding her screen. She swiped to unlock and go directly to all the DMs.

_Buying more stuff with Mo’s money? You’re gonna bleed him dry. He’s gonna be poor by the time he’s done with you and then you’re gonna leave him for the next hockey player with money._

_ive been nice can u pls post a pic of u and mo_

_You think you’re hot shit because you got to go to the Night With Blue and White? You’re so ugly._

_Cassidy is sooooo much prettier than you._

“What is it?” he asked, breathing heavily.

_You look so fat in that dress. Arm flab everywhere._

_Guess none of the other wags wanted to sit with you. _

_So if you’re at this event it must mean you’re dating Morgan??? Why won’t you answer me?????_

“N-Nothing,” she hesitated. “It’s nothing.”

“What’s wrong?”

_Ur literally so desperate and it’s so sad._

“Briony, what’s wrong?”

“It’s – it’s nothing. It just some random messages.”

“Messages? From who?”

“Um, from fans.”

“What did you just say?”

_You’re trash_

_Can u pls post a pic of u and mo at the event pls pls pls we want to see so bad_

_R u the same girl in cassidy’s new years eve video? And the halloween vids?_

Morgan sat up from his position, taking Bee’s phone and looking at the screen with all the Instagram messages lined up perfectly for him to scroll through. His brows became more furrowed after he read more and more. “What do they mean videos?”

“I don’t know. There were like a thousand people there tonight, Morgan. _One_ of them was probably taking an Instagram live video and we were in the background,” she said.

“No no,” he shook his head, scrolling and reading through more. “What do they mean Cassidy’s video? What the fuck are they talking about?”

“Kasperi’s girlfriend from New Year’s,” Bee tried to explain calmly. “There was…I don’t know, there was like an Instagram story that she did with her and Kappy. But I guess we were kissing in the background.”

“And it _leaked_?”

“Nothing _leaked_, Morgan. She’s an Instagram model with a public profile.”

Morgan threw her phone on the bed and buried his head in his hands, sighing heavily and letting out a load, exasperated groan. “Fuck. Fucking _fuck_!” he exclaimed. “I should have been more careful. I should have been more…_fuuuuuck_!”

“Morgan, stop.”

“Briony, how long have you been getting these messages? Be honest with me.”

“I…I mean I think it was Christmas? I thought they were just bots at first, but then I noticed your name in one of the messages,” she admitted. “Why does that matter?”

“I’ve told you about what happened before. I’ve _told_ you,” he said, fear evident in his voice.

“Yeah, so?”

“What the hell do you mean ‘yeah, so?’?” he demanded. “You don’t get it Briony.”

“They’re just messages, Morgan. They’re not --”

“Briony, if they scared you or got bad I wouldn’t be able to live with myself,” he interrupted her, trying to remain as calm as possible even though the fear within him was threatening to burst out of him at any moment. “If they…if they hurt you or they scared you or --”

“Morgan, they’re harml--”

“They’re _not_ harmless, Briony!” he yelled, pushing her off his body so he could get up and pace to let off some steam. He was going to start hyperventilating if he didn’t release some of his energy somewhere. He felt like punching a wall or throwing something across the room but he knew that was completely out of the question. _Use your words, Morgan. Use your words_. “Briony, please, this is the one thing. The _one_ thing. I want to keep you safe from the craziness of the hockey media and all the social media that comes along with it. You have to understand where I’m coming from. I don’t want you to go through that. _Please_. You deserve better than this, Briony.”

“Morgan, I know you do, _I know_,” she stressed. “But it was bound to get out eventually. We couldn’t keep it a secret forever.”

“But not like this,” he shook his head as he kept pacing. “Not through fucking…fans and puckbunnies and through gossip on the internet or Instagram or _wherever_,” he flung his arm dramatically. “I’m glad I’m taking you to Vancouver and we’re leaving this right now. This is exactly what I didn’t want happening.”

Briony was somewhat concerned, somewhat indignant. She knew he wanted to protect her, and that was why he didn’t tell her who he was at first, or why they always kept a low profile when they were out, or why they did stuff like arrive separately yet in the same taxi to events so they wouldn’t be caught on camera together. But he was so upset about this, so visibly shaken, that she felt like there was something else he wasn’t telling her. She didn’t know if she was right, but he was acting like this was the end of the world. She’d been through worse than having random people message her telling her she was ugly or demanding pictures and proof she was dating him; she’d heard those ugly comments from her mother all her life. _That_ meant more than some random wannabe bikini model or Toronto party girl saying it on Instagram. “What, people seeing you with me?” she demanded of him.

He gave her a look. “I’d fucking show you off to the entire city if I could, and you know that,” he told her. “But I don’t, Briony, because then that means that crazy people will know who you are.”

“Crazy people?! Why do you continue to think I’m some delicate, fragile being in need of protection?” she demanded. It was her turn to get angry. He knew she’d dealt with worse in her life and he was still acting like this. She didn’t know if he liked to just conveniently forget she grew up with an alcoholic mother, or that he didn’t want to think about it, and therefore didn’t have a real understanding of what she had to deal with growing up. Both were equally as bad. “Don’t you dare think you are my lord protector now. I’ve dealt with far worse than this.”

“You don’t underst--”

“I grew up surrounded by _alcoholics_, Morgan,” she said firmly, letting it all out now. That made him stop in his tracks and shut his mouth. “What – you think it was just my mom? Every single one of her friends was an addict too, and a lot of them were addicted to worse shit than just vodka and whisky and I had to be around it. I was the only one ever sober enough to see how _fucked up_ they were and I was a _child_. A _child_, Morgan. All these things you’re scared about, all these things that you think these girls are saying to me – you _really _think I haven’t already heard that from my mom?” she kept demanding of him. “Do you _really_ think she would have passed up the opportunity to tell me how unwanted I was? How much she resented me? How much of a burden I was because it meant she had to spend whatever money she had on me and not alcohol? How she’d constantly tell me I’d be alone just like her my whole life because I was the smart girl and the chubby girl and nobody likes the smart, chubby girls? This is _nothing_. These girls want pictures of us, a glam shot of a Chanel bag, or us being cute together. My mother wanted to drag me down into the darkness with her! And the more I rejected going into that darkness the harder she tried to pull. And I was able to pull myself out of that. I was strong enough to get myself out of that cycle. _Alone_. Completely fucking _alone_, with help from no-one. So don’t you _dare_ try to insinuate I’m fragile and you’re the only one who can protect be because I’ve dealt with far worse emotional abuse than what those girls are throwing at me. I can survive, you know. I _have_ survived.”

Morgan was silent. Completely, utterly silent. He was at a loss for words, though there wasn’t anything to say. There wasn’t anything that _could_ be said. Bee had said it all. And Morgan knew, he _knew_ that everything she had just said came straight from her heart; that she’d been bottling it up for a long time, hiding it, and that it exploded because he was being a bit irrational and wasn’t giving her agency or a choice in the matter. He had just been speaking to himself; they were never having a conversation.

Her words hung heavy in the room as they looked at each other. Morgan knew she was right. Bee knew she was right. But for all her pride and insistence, she knew Morgan had a point to. It was natural to be protective over your partner. It was natural to get mad at things that happened that were completely out of your control, and that exposed an intimate part of you; a part you didn’t want to share with the world. They were both right in their own way. She guessed they just needed to scream about it in order to see it that way.

Morgan’s cheeks were flushed red, and soon, even in the dusk light from the bedside lamp, she saw glimmering streaks fall down his face. She’d never seen him cry before. She’d seen him get angry on the ice, or sad because of a loss, or annoyed because of whatever else, but never to the point of tears. She knew it wasn’t about the screaming or the fight; she knew he was crying because of what she revealed to him. She knew it was about how much she’d been through, the emotional abuse, and how something he was making such a big deal about was a miniscule problem to her in relation to what she had to endure before.

When she saw the tears roll down his cheeks, she couldn’t help but start to cry softly, too. “C’mere, Morgan,” she extended her arms out.

He rushed to her, engulfing her in his arms as they cried into each other’s shoulders. She played with the hair at the nape of his neck as he squeezed her tight. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” his voice was shaky as he apologized.

“It’s okay, Mo. I get where you’re coming from,” she said, her voice equally as shaky.

He pulled away from her to give her a kiss, their tear-stained cheeks pressing together as he held her head in his hands. “I just don’t want to lose you,” he asserted. “God Briony, you don’t get it. If anything happened to you I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. If you got hurt or scared I --”

“Shhhhhhh,” she said, placing her index finger on his lips as he repeated his earlier sentiments. “Nothing is gonna happen. It’s okay.”

“I care about you too much for that to happen Briony.”

“I know, I know,” she said soothingly. “I’m sorry too, okay? I’m sorry I got mad.”

“You don’t…you don’t…” he shook his head. “I know you’re so strong Briony. I know you are. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. But if I can’t protect you than what can I do? What am I good for?”

“Shhhhhhh shhhhh shhhhh,” she silenced him again, bringing him to lie down with her in bed. “Don’t say that Morgan. Don’t.”

“I just want you to feel safe when you’re with me,” his voice was still shaky.

“I do, Morgan.”

“D’you promise?”

“Yes Morgan. _Yes_,” she stressed, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. “You make me feel so safe. Like nothing can touch me. That’s why I feel so fearless about this. Because I know you’re gonna be there, and that’ll you’ll make everything okay.”

“I don’t want you to think I don’t trust you, or think you couldn’t handle it,” he said. “I’ve just seen it destroy so many people before. I’ve seen it destroy relationships. I just want to make you feel safe. I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t baby. You won’t lose me. You won’t lose me,” she cooed.

As they lay in bed together, Bee kept rubbing circles into Morgan’s back until his breathing steadied and he fell asleep, his body still on hers and his face buried in the crook of her neck. As tough or as funny or as goofy or as calm or as angry or as happy or as sad or as annoyed as he was and had been throughout their relationship, Bee realized that Morgan was more complicated than that. Everybody was, she knew, but now she saw a side of Morgan that she hadn’t seen before: fearful. Fearful for the ones he cared about. Fearful for their safety. She saw firsthand what fear could do to him. She realized there was this instinct in him, a protective instinct, where he believed he was most useful, because that meant it would stop that fearfulness from ever coming to light if he was just protective. She wished that he didn’t need to feel that way. She wished that he didn’t need to feel fearful or protective.

She wished he could see how good he was. 


	19. Chapter 18

Bee had never been on a plane before, let alone business class. She knew what planes looked like inside – she wasn’t stupid – but she was shocked to see where they were sitting: nice, plush, individual seats with a footrest, tables, big screens, and even a shelf up against the plane wall. Morgan made sure they got window seats, because he knew she’d be taking pictures out of the window, especially as they flew over the Rockies. The flight was just under five hours, so she had a lot of time to get as many pictures as she wanted.

Bee put most things in her checked luggage, so she really only had to bring her tote bag on the plane. As she settled into her seat, she automatically opened the window covering and looked out onto the concrete of the Toronto airport runway. Morgan settled into his seat behind her, leaning in so he could get close. “You okay, bumblebee?”

She glanced behind her. “These are really nice.”

“I know.”

“Do you always fly like this?”

“Pretty much,” he admitted. “I’m a big boy. I need my space.”

He was built like a fridge so she figured as much. She also figured they’d be flying back to Toronto the same way. She obviously had to admit this was nice. She thought they’d be squeezed together like sardines in economy…not that she would have minded being squeezed next to Morgan. She’d even prepared for that – she brought a book, Richard Llewellyn’s _How Green Was My Valley_, headphones, some Gravol (she didn’t know if she got sick on planes, for obvious reasons), some gum for when her ears popped. She even bought snacks once they passed security. She’d researched what she would need. Morgan didn’t bring anything besides a neck pillow and headphones. She knew he was used to the journey. He probably knew the exact moment the plane would start to descend into Vancouver.

She also knew that he would want to sleep, but she didn’t know if she would be able to. She knew it was probably dumb, but she had never been on a plane before and she wanted to remember the experience: the turbulence, the take off, the landing, hell even the airplane food. It was an early morning flight, still only 6:30am as they boarded, the plane taking off at 7:30. They’d be arriving at 9:30am Vancouver time if all went well. His parents would be picking them up from the airport.

Bee wasn’t nervous about meeting his parents. From what Morgan had told her about them, they seemed to be amazing people, genuinely nice and caring – they _had_ to be if they raised Morgan. She wasn’t nervous about meeting his brother, either, because Morgan told her so much about him and about his work on all the different movie sets in Vancouver and how _cool_ it all was. God, and then there’d be Maggie – Morgan’s original girl – wagging her tail and slobbering her with kisses…

She was excited more than she was nervous.

“Go Leafs go,” a passenger said quickly as he made his way through the aisle, hauling a giant backpack in front of him. Bee whipped her head around to look at him. He was in his mid-twenties, light brown hair with a hoodie and track pants on. She watched as Morgan gave him a tight-lipped smile and a slight nod of the head. “Shoulda been named an All-Star, Mo. You’re the best defenseman in the league right now.”

Bee smiled. Morgan was way too humble to take the comment seriously, even though she knew – and probably everybody on this plane knew – that the guy was right. Morgan chuckled slightly at his comment. “Yeah, but at least I get to spend a week at home now,” he said.

“Those videos the boys made for you were funny as shit,” he added, noticing the line in front of him was moving. “You should be our next captain, bud. You’re the fucking man.”

Morgan smiled politely. Bee smiled too, wiggling her eyebrows. “Thanks bud,” Morgan nodded his head one more time before the guy moved forward, disappearing into economy class. Morgan leaned forward once he was gone. “You still need to help me kill the boys after they released those videos.”

“I could never kill them for saying the truth,” she turned away from him dramatically, lying down in her seat just because she could.

*

Bee knew immediately who Morgan’s parents were because of their waving arms. Nobody else in the arrivals section looked as excited as they did early in the morning. His dad towered over his mom – she knew where he got his height from now – and his mom did a little jump of excitement when she saw them. They followed as she and Morgan walked to their left down the ramp, lugging their suitcases behind them.

When they finally met, Morgan gave his parents big, warm hugs. His mom rocked him from side to side for a few moments before finally letting go. Morgan turned his attention to his dad, and Shirley turned her attention to Bee. “Briony! It’s so nice to finally meet you!” she exclaimed.

“It’s so nice to meet you too Mrs. Rielly,” Bee smiled.

“No no, you call me Shirley,” she said, extending her arms and giving Bee a strong, warm hug like she just did to Morgan.

When they let go, Bee focused her attention to Morgan’s dad. “Mr. --”

“It’s Andy,” he said, giving her a quick hug. “It’s very nice to meet you Briony. Is this your first time in Vancouver?”

“Yes! It’s actually my first time out of Ontario,” Bee said nervously.

“Well, Vancouver is the perfect city for first-time travellers!” Andy replied. He turned his attention back to his son. “Did you guys eat on the plane? We can go have breakfast.”

“No no, we had something.”

“Alright,” Andy smiled. “Then let’s go into the city.”

Everybody loaded themselves into the family SUV and Andy drove through the streets of Vancouver while Bee sat in the backseat, head practically out the window as she took in the scenery around her. She felt a bit stupid taking out her phone to take pictures, but at one point, some mountains appeared in the background, and she couldn’t help but start snapping. She’d Googled pictures of Vancouver so she’d know what it looked like, but actually being here and seeing everything was totally different. It was a beautiful, sunny day outside despite it being winter, and the crisp morning air just made everything more beautiful.

Andy eventually drove to a place called Kitsilano Beach, where he parked the car on a residential street before they began walking. Even though it was the middle of January, people were still out jogging, playing with their dogs, and Bee even thought she saw one person doing yoga. They walked along the pavement path, before the beach, the beautiful mountains rising in the distance. Even some sailboats were already out on the water. It was all so picturesque, and Bee was sure she was being annoying with how many pictures she was taking.

“Briony, Morgan tells us you’ve been studying for your Master’s in Financial Economics,” Andy said as she finished another round of photos of the coast, smiling at her as she put her phone back in her purse.

“Oh, yeah,” she nodded. “I’m finished now though. Just got the paperwork about a week ago that I’ve passed everything and I’m officially graduating in June.”

“Heeeeey! Congratulations!” he said excitedly. “And now?”

“Now I’ve gotta get a job,” she joked. “I actually have an interview at Scotiabank the Monday we get back. I’m hoping something comes from it.”

“That’s fantastic, Briony!”

“She graduated with a 3.8 GPA!” Morgan chirped in from behind them where he was standing with Shirley. “Straight A’s across the board!”

“Hey, can you teach Morgan some things?” Shirley laughed.

“He’s been learning!” Bee said earnestly. Shirley whipped her head towards her son in shock. Andy let out a loud _‘What?!’_, causing Bee to laugh. “It’s true! He pulled out ‘Keynesian economics’ once during conversation, and now he’s got all the newspaper apps on his phone and will bring up Bank of Canada interest rates.”

“_My_ son, _Morgan Frederick Rielly_, is bringing up interest rates and Keynesian economics? Whoa ho ho,” Andy shook his head.

“Can you maybe not embarrass me in front of my parents?” Morgan asked, hands on his hips.

“What’s embarrassing? It’s cute!” Bee giggled.

“It’s _super_ cute!” his mom stressed. “God, trying to get you to watch the news when you were younger was a struggle. Now she’s saying you have their apps on your phone? That’s growth, dear.”

As the four continued to walk along the path and joke around, learning more and more about one another, the beach stopped and they walked through a path of trees that obscured their view for a while. When they emerged, Bee was shocked to see the Vancouver skyline stretched out before her in the distance, the mountains rising behind the tall condo buildings.

“Oh _wow_!” she exclaimed, walking past the Elsji Point sign to the edge of the Kitsilano Seawall. She heard the waves crash up against the rocks and stepped on them, trying to get as close to the edge as possible. “How cool is that?!” she shouted to no-one in particular.

“You like what you see, Briony?” Shirley laughed.

Bee looked back to see Morgan following behind her, balancing himself on the jagged rocks. “It’s beautiful!” she called out to his parents, focusing her attention back on the skyline. She felt Morgan’s fingers tickle the small of her back before he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, standing next to her on the rocks, looking out at the skyline. “What a view!” she said, smiling from ear to ear as she looked up at him momentarily.

“I agree,” he smiled, not caring about the skyline.

*

Neither Morgan nor Bee truly minded that the rest of the day was spent with his parents. They had taken an immediate liking to Bee, and after taking pictures together at the Kitsilano Seawall, they drove to Yaletown to have lunch before getting back in their car to drive home. Sometime during the drive, they crossed the Lion’s Gate Bridge into North Vancouver. The streets became leafier and more tree-lined, tall glass condo buildings making way for large single-family lots hidden by trees or built into cliffs and hills along the coast.

When Andy pulled in to what Bee could only assume to be their house, she was taken aback by the prettiness of it, and of course the size. It was huge, bigger than what she was used to of course, with huge windows and a landscaped front yard with giant pots of flowers framing the front door. Bee felt like she was looking at a castle. Chateau Rielly. This is where Morgan grew up. This is where he’d wake up early for hockey practice and lug his giant bag out to the car. This is where he’d play in the streets with his brother and friends before getting called in for dinner. This is where he moved out of, at only fourteen years old, to pursue his hockey dream.

When Bee stepped inside the house, she was again taken aback at how it truly felt like a home. Nothing she had ever lived in had felt this warm and inviting. Right in the entryway, there were framed pictures of artwork Morgan and his brother Connor drew when they were young; weirdly shaped people with a house and a dog. Morgan had drawn mountains in his while Connor drew a huge sun.

“Figured you two might want to relax a bit before dinner,” Andy said as he slipped out of his shoes. “It’s already been a long day.”

A loud bark interrupted everyone, and Maggie came zooming around the corner, running straight towards Morgan. He bent down immediately and she practically jumped into him, slobbering his face with kisses. Her tail was wagging so quickly and so excitedly that it was banging against the floor and the wall.

“Hi baby girl! Hi! _Hello! Hello!_” Morgan began cooing at her, scratching at her ears and letting her lick his face. “Hi Maggie girl! I’m home! Yes! I’m home! Are you happy Maggie? You happy to see me Maggie?” Maggie barked in pure elation, even whimpering a few times as she kept jumping up on him.

“Oh, the love fest begins,” Shirley smiled, shaking her head at the sight before her. “Sorry Briony, he’s going to smell like dog breath for the rest of the night.”

“Maggie loves me and _I love my Maggie girl_,” Morgan quipped as Maggie continued to lick at his face. “Maggie, go meet Briony! Who’s that?”

Maggie’s attention focused on Bee, and she waddled over to her at Morgan’s command and began sniffing her. Bee didn’t have much experience with dogs besides Sarah Jessica Barker, and even then, Sarah Jessica Barker was a small dog. Maggie was huge. Bee stuck out her hand for Maggie to smell, and it only took a couple of sniffs for Maggie to start licking her. “Hi Maggie. Hi beautiful girl,” she said, kneeing in front of her to give her some more pets. Maggie got excited at that and gave Bee’s face a giant lick, causing her to squeal.

“Oh great! Now they’ll both smell like dog breath,” Andy rolled his eyes playfully. “Mo, come on. Go bring the suitcases upstairs and then come out and see the new deck.”

Morgan left Maggie unwillingly, grabbing both his and Bee’s small suitcases in both hands before climbing the stairs quickly. Bee and Shirley followed close behind, with Maggie following Andy outside to the backyard. Once they were all at the top of the stairs, Shirley and Bee took the suitcases from him before he went back downstairs and outside with his dad.

“You’re in here sweetie,” Shirley said, leading her down the hallway. She opened the door to the spare room, all done up for Bee’s visit. There were a bunch of pillows on the bed with a really cozy looking comforter. Bee noticed a door leading to an ensuite bathroom and another further down the wall, probably a closet.

She took her suitcase from Shirley, hauling it onto the bed as Shirley walked over to the window to open the blinds, revealing an absolutely stunning view of a rocky cliff and trees, and even a sliver of the ocean. _God_, was there anywhere that _wasn’t_ beautiful here? “Thank you for letting me stay in your home,” Bee said to her.

“Oh, there’s no need to thank me, sweetheart,” Shirley smiled. “It’s not like we’d let you stay at a hotel when we have extra room. You have your own washroom right through that door, and Morgan is just in the room beside you in case you need anything at night,” she explained.

“I almost insisted on it to Morgan,” Bee tried to joke. “He wouldn’t hear any of it.”

“Then I taught my son well,” Shirley winked, walking over to the bed to start fluffing the pillows, as if they needed any more fluffing.

“I didn’t want you to feel like I was intruding on your time and space,” Bee explained. “Um, I’m sure Morgan told you about me a little bit, and how I’m not used to all this stuff.”

Shirley stopped fluffing the pillow, placing it down on the bed before giving Bee a concerned look. “He did, but only because I pried it out of him, like any mom would when he son tells her he has a new girlfriend,” she said. “Which is all the more reason why you should stay here, in a family home, rather than some stuffy hotel.”

Bee nodded her head. “Um, I know this might be a bit forward of me, but we can talk about it if you want. I’m sure Morgan’s told you about that too…how upfront I am about it,” she half laughed. “I’m not that sensitive about it. I told Morgan the second time we hung out.”

“Honey, I’m not going to force you to talk about anything. I’m just…” Shirley couldn’t find the right words. She sat down on the bed and pat the seat beside her, so Bee joined her. “I just want to make you feel as comfortable as possible while you’re here. I know how much my son adores you and how much he cares about you. And quite frankly, he’d probably kill me right now if he knew we were having this conversation,” she pulled a face, causing Bee to laugh slightly. “I know your mom had her…troubles, and her addictions, and I know she wasn’t the best mother to you. But Morgan told me how you worked yourself out of that life, and I know this isn’t much coming from me, but I’m very proud of you.”

Bee felt like crying at her words. Besides Clarette telling her the same thing, she’d never heard a maternal figure say those words to her. _I’m proud of you_. It was the warmest feeling in the world; the best arrangement of four words Bee could hear from someone. “It actually _does_ mean a lot coming from you,” she said quietly. “Morgan has told me a lot about you too. How educated you are and how you started your own medical company. He loves you guys so much. Like I can tell…I can tell he wants to talk about you guys all the time, but he kinda holds back a bit, because he knows I don’t have those same experiences, with parents and a sibling and a dog, so he doesn’t want to make me feel uncomfortable. But I _like_ hearing that sort of stuff.”

“Morgan is a gentle soul,” Shirley nodded her head. “A bit rare for a hockey player, but he is. I remember…oh gosh, he’s going to kill me…” she shook her head quickly, “but I remember when he was a toddler and he grasped the idea of happiness – you know, how things can be happy and sad. And when he did, all he used to ask was ‘Mamma happy?’ ‘Daddy happy?’ ‘Connor happy?’ ‘Plant happy?’ ‘Chair happy?’ He was always making sure everybody and everything around him was happy. And if they weren’t, he’d work to make them happy again. That’s never gone away with him. It’s something that he’s kept all these years later.”

Bee couldn’t help but smile at what Shirley was telling her. It was true. Morgan was very in-tune with people’s emotions. If one of his teammates was upset or stressed, he’d talk it out with them, lend them a listening ear, and try to make them feel better. He did the same with her. Always. It was crazy how, even as a toddler, he had the same qualities. “He’s definitely still kept that up,” Bee smiled.

Shirley placed her hand on Bee’s forearm, giving her a warm smile. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable here, ever. You are not a guest here. If you’re every hungry or thirsty, just walk to the fridge and get what you want. Fall asleep on the couch,” she said, being interrupted suddenly by Maggie’s bark, signalling Morgan and Andy were back in the house. “You’re a gentle soul too, Briony. Regardless of what happened in your past, and regardless of the tough exterior you may have had to put on to survive in this world alone. Inside, you’re a gentle soul. That’s why my son adores you. Gentle souls stick together.”

Morgan’s loud footsteps pounding up the stairs prevented Bee from bursting into tears right then and there. When he appeared in the doorway, he was greeted with Shirley rearranging a picture frame on the armoire and Bee sitting on the bed, looking out the window. “Everything good?” he asked, taking in the scene of his mother and his girlfriend.

“Just admiring the view,” Bee pointed to the window, which faced out into the backyard, holding in her tears.

*

“Baby…baby…Bumblebee…Bumblebee…”

Bee thought she heard a voice, but she had been in such a deep sleep, she wondered if it was just a dream. She opened her eyes, barely, to see a figure standing over her. “M…Mo?”

“Baby, get up,” he shook her gently.

“What?”

“Get up. We gotta go.”

“We gotta go? Where?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“What?!”

“We gotta go somewhere, but it’s a surprise.”

“Is this some sort of sick joke?” she looked over at the alarm clock on the bedside table. “It’s 4:30 in the morning, Mo.”

“I know. But you need to trust me.”

She leaned up in bed, looked over to her window to see darkness outside. “Is the sun even out yet?”

“No. But that’s the best part. Come _on_. Wash your face and let’s _go_,” he said excitedly as he left the room. She could see Maggie in the doorway waiting excitedly before she followed Morgan out of the room.

She got out of bed and quickly washed her face and brushed her teeth. She brushed through her hair quickly and put on a hoodie and a pair of jeans, wondering to herself how cold it was outside, since it was still in the middle of the fucking night. She emerged from her room to see Morgan pouring coffee into two canisters, a cool bag seemingly already packed with Tupperware. Maggie was waiting patiently at Morgan’s feet, her tongue dangling out and something strapped to her body.

Bee rubbed her eyes to make sure she wasn’t seeing things. “Am I hallucinating or is Maggie in a lifejacket?” she asked.

Morgan glanced behind his shoulder to smile at her, and smile down at Maggie. “Yes, she’s in a lifejacket.”

“Is that a shark fin on top?”

“Mhm,” he nodded his head as he closed the coffee canisters. “She’s not only the queen on land, she’s the queen of the ocean too.”

“Where are we going?” she tried to ask one more time as she watched him fling the cool bag over his shoulder.

“It’s a surprise,” he winked, handing her coffee. “Now let’s go.”

He guided her through his parents’ backyard, and even through his neighbour’s backyard with a flashlight, down a path of rocks used as steps carved into the edge of the coast until they got to a dock. Maggie followed close behind them, trotting her way down to the bottom. There, a boathouse sat housing two compartments. She could only assume one belonged to his family. “Are you taking me out on a boat?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Morgan said, holding her hand as she manoeuvred by a few shaky rocks. “You don’t get boat sick, do you?”

“I have no clue. Are we allowed?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?” he smiled at her. “C’mon, let me help you in.”

She grabbed his hand and he provided support as she stepped into the boat from the dock. He gave her his coffee canister and the cool bag to store before bending at the knees to pick up Maggie in his arms and put her on the boat as well. When he climbed in, he gave Bee a quick kiss before doing what he needed to do to prep the boat to take it out. Once he turned the motor on, Maggie barked excitedly and he started driving it along the water.

He drove the boat through the Strait of Georgia, in between Keats, Gambier, and Bowen Islands, as if he was taking it to Gibsons – a regular summer activity. The scenery was more beautiful than Bee could have ever imagined, even better than the pictures she had Googled to get a better understanding of what Morgan grew up surrounded with. The mountains looked like they appeared straight from the water as a light fog lay on their tops, creating a haze to go with the slow-coming sunrise that illuminated the scenery for her. The deep blue of the ocean mixed with the deep hues of the mountains was breathtaking. The sound of the water, so calm and so serene as it hit the side of the boat, provided the perfect background music to the scenery before her.

She was a city girl through and through. Born and raised in Toronto, a product of the concrete and streets she called home. But out here, on the boat, with mountains before her and the natural scenery of the Sunshine Coast surrounding her, Bee couldn’t think of a better morning.

Morgan eventually stopped the boat, turning the engine off as he took out a blanket and brought it with him to the seat on the back of the boat where Bee was sitting. He sat next to her, unfolding the blanket and laying it across them. Maggie came trotting towards them, still with her shark fin lifejacket on, and lay down at Morgan’s feet.

“Are we just gonna watch the sunrise?” she asked as she snuggled into him.

He wrapped an arm around her and clasped her hand that was lying on his chest. He brought it up quickly to his lips and kissed it. “That’s exactly what we’re gonna do,” he whispered.

And they did. For at least two whole hours, they sat in the boat, attached to each other, and watched the sun rise over the mountains and illuminate everything in its sight. It made the waves look like a sea of diamonds. It made the mountains giants among their miniscule existence in the boat. It made Morgan’s blue eyes shine like sapphires every time she looked up at them and kissed him. It made her believe there was nothing better than this; there was nothing better than being cuddled next to Morgan, on a boat in the middle of the Georgia Strait, watching the sunrise over the West Coast.

Despite Morgan not wanting the morning to end, he knew that they’d eventually have to get back to his parents’ house for breakfast. He didn’t want to, though. He could have stayed out here for the rest of the day. He could have stayed out here forever. He could have forgotten about every other worry he had and just live on the boat with Bee and Maggie. But he knew his parents wanted to spend more time with her before their day in Victoria with their friends, and he didn’t want to deny them getting to know her.

Suddenly, a small explosion came up from the water. Water sprung up from something beneath the water, and Bee yelped slightly in fear. “What was that?”

Morgan paused, a small smile appearing on his face. He waited patiently for another to happen, and when it did, he smiled even more. “It’s a pod of whales.”

“It’s a _what_?!” Bee demanded, suddenly getting scared. “Oh my God, are they – are they gonna capsize the boat?!”

“No no no, we’ll be fine,” Morgan said. “They’re peaceful. This isn’t Moby Dick.” He walked back to the steering wheel of the boat and turned on the engine.

“Excuse me? What do you think you’re doing?” she asked as another whale sprayed water from their blowhole.

“We’ve gotta follow the pod, Bee.”

“Are you nuts?”

“Bee, do you know how rare it is to be this close to a pod? At _this_ time of year? We _have_ to!”

“Morgan, we’re going to _die_.”

She was _such_ a city girl. He just laughed as he adjusted the motor on the lowest setting, just enough to get the boat moving to follow the whales but not loud enough to scare them in any way. “Bumblebee, it’s going to be magic. Don’t worry, we’ll be safe. My dad and I have done this a lot.”

They began following the pod slowly, Bee looking over the edge of the boat to see if she could see the figures of the whales under the water. She couldn’t – she figured they were too far away – but then another whale sprayed more water from its blowhole not too far from them and she saw some of it come out of the water. She gasped at the sight. “Morgan! It came up a little!” she called out.

Another whale, seemingly right beside the other one, did the same thing, except its tail fin came up too. Bee gasped again and she kept muttering _‘Oh my God’_ over and over to herself. After a few minutes and more tails coming up from the water, Bee couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She looked at Morgan. “What kind of whales are they?” she asked.

“By the tail, they look like humpbacks,” he said, noticing another blowing of water out in the distance. They were becoming more frequent now, and he knew what that meant. He stopped the boat, killed the engine, and went over to Bee, who was still looking over the edge. “Bee, look out into the distance. They’re gonna breach.”

“What’s that mean?”

“They’re gonna jump. All of them.” He wrapped his arms around her, standing behind her so her back was flush with his chest, and leaned his head gently on top of hers. He waited patiently, a few more blows of water and some tail fins coming up.

Then the magic happened. Against the backdrop of the sunrise and the mountains in the distance, the humpback whales began to breach. One after another, their bodies jumped out of the water, splashing down in a heap. It was like they were putting on a show for her as they kept breaching, moving across the water but going further into the distance. They were the only ones out, the only ones witnessing this beautiful, natural display. Bee screamed and jumped out of Morgan’s arms in pure jubilation as she watched, bending over in shock and bringing her hands up to cover her mouth, almost cackling at what she was witnessing. More screaming of _‘Oh my God!’_ every time one breached, huge gasps at the size of them, pure shock and wonder and elation and euphoria spreading through her veins. Never, _never_ in a million years did she think she’d be able to witness something so beautiful and ethereal. <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_HY-8tnOVUc>

When their activity died down, and they were getting too far to truly see, she looked back at Morgan, her jaw on the floor at what she had just witnessed. He had a giant smile on his face too, so incredibly happy that she was able to see them. She walked slowly into his outstretched arms, her hands still over her mouth in shock. He wrapped his arms around her again tightly, placing a quick kiss on the crown of her head.

“That was…” she began, but she couldn’t find the right words to truly express what she was feeling. She’d never done drugs before, but this is what she imagined it was like to feel high.

“See? And you thought they’d capsize the boat,” he joked.

“I can’t believe I just saw that. I…” she trailed off, again unable to truly find the right words. “Morgan, that was _incredible_.”

“I know. It’s magic.”

“Oh my God. _Oh my God_. And you’ve seen that more than once?” she asked.

He nodded his head. “Quite a few times, actually.”

“God, Morgan. You’re _so_ lucky.”

Her tone brought him back down to earth a bit; made him truly realize that yes, he _was_ lucky to have been able to witness something like that more than once. He realized that for someone who had grown up in the city, all concrete and skyscrapers and university buildings, what she just saw really _was_ magic; a reminder of the natural world that still existed, that would _still_ exist after that concrete, those skyscrapers, those university buildings were all gone. There would always be the ocean. There would always be nature.

There would always be magic.

*

The sound of Morgan’s scream and splash in the pool was sure to upset the neighbours. After cooking (read: barbequing) Bee dinner all by himself, he had convinced Bee to take a late night dip in the pool as the sun set on the West Coast. She didn’t know how to swim, but that didn’t matter to him. It wasn’t about the swimming. His parents were spending the night at their friend’s house in Victoria on Vancouver Island, so they had the whole house to themselves.

He had changed into his bathing suit quickly – an old one he’d found in a drawer in his bedroom that was a bit too small now, but whatever – and met Bee outside before he made a run for it and dove into the pool. He’d already adjusted the pool temperature so it was a bit warmer. He thanked God his parents hadn’t winterized it this year because his mom wanted to practice water aerobics and Maggie would swim to get exercise to lose weight (the vet was wrong, Morgan thought – Maggie was a chunky girl but she was a _good_ girl and didn’t need to lose any weight if she didn’t want to).

He watched as Bee followed close behind him, her comfy bathrobe still on, concealing her body. She looked back nervously into the house as she watched him swim around. “You…your parents aren’t home, right?”

“Bee, we drove them to the ferry this morning.”

“And like, we know for sure that they got on the boat?” she asked, fidgeting with the tie on the robe before looking back into the house.

“Can you stop being so paranoid,” he deadpanned. “They’re gone. It’s just you and me, baby. And Maggie. But she’s sleeping on her bed because it’s past her bedtime.”

“That fact that your dog has a bedtime really says something, you know.”

Morgan watched as Bee disrobed slowly, and he couldn’t help the giant smile that appeared on his face when she dropped it to the floor, leaving her in her one-piece swimsuit. It was a black deep V-neck, a majority of it the solid colour while a part of it was striped. It wasn’t high cut at the hips or deeply revealing in any way, but Bee filled it out so well. As she bent over to fold the robe haphazardly on the deck chair, he saw the material ride up. He put his fingers between his lips and whistled loudly.

“Can you not?” she gave him a look, somewhere between amused and annoyed. “You might wake up your neighbours.”

He rolled his eyes. “Can you get in here?”

She left her robe alone, walking gingerly towards the pool. She’d never learned how to swim before, and although the pool wasn’t that big, she was still nervous. She stood at the edge, watching Morgan as he tread water. That meant he was in the deep end. “Can you go into the more shallow water,” she requested nervously.

He did as he was told, moving towards the more shallow part. He watched as she moved with him. He brought his arms up, beckoning her in. “C’mere,” he said.

“Morgan…don’t let go,” she said nervously. “I mean it. I don’t know how to swim _at all_.”

“I won’t, I won’t,” he said, licking his lips as she bent down and sat on the edge of the pool. “You just gonna wiggle in?” he asked.

“I guess? Should I do something different?” she worried.

“No no, that’s fine.”

“And you’ll catch me when I go in right?”

“Of course.”

She wiggled her body off the edge nervously and landed in the water with a splash, Morgan catching her automatically. She held on to him around his shoulders with a death grip. “Mo?” she started kicking her feet instinctively from beneath her.

“I got you, I got you,” he said comfortingly, wrapping his arms completely around her. “Stop kicking your feet.”

“Well what am I supposed to do with them?”

“Just wrap ‘em around me,” he whispered, his hands trailing down to her thighs. “Like this.”

“Is that safe?”

He couldn’t help but smile again. “Yes, it’s fine because I know how to swim. You’re also only in like, five feet of water, and your incredible hunk of a boyfriend stands at a staggering six-foot-one.”

Bee snorted. “You are honestly the _worst_.”

He moved away from the ledge and submerged her more in the water. She grabbed onto him a little bit tighter as he did so, still nervous about the fact that she couldn’t swim. “You look incredible in your bathing suit,” Morgan said, trying to get her mind off her fear.

“I think it shrunk. I washed it before bringing it here and now it keeps riding up my butt,” Bee revealed.

“Whatever happened, it looks incredible,” he repeated, his hands wandering to her butt now that she mentioned it. “It just hugs your entire body perfectly. It looks hot.”

“Morgan.”

“I’m being serious.”

“I know you are,” she giggled, and in that moment, Morgan realized she was probably laughing because she could feel his growing erection in his swim trunks. 

“And your boobs,” he continued.

“_Morgan_.”

“God, your boobs look even better.”

“Can you not.”

“Nuh uh, you’re gonna hear this,” he shook his head. “You look phenomenal.”

She smiled at him, biting her bottom lip as she played with the wet hair at the nape of his neck. She couldn’t believe how the day had turned out. Even though she had to wake up at 4:30 in the morning because of Morgan’s surprise, it was beyond worth it. The time they spent together with his parents felt so natural and unforced, like nobody was putting on airs and graces just to impress the other. Finishing off the day with Morgan’s home cooked dinner and now a dip in the pool, she really couldn’t believe how much fun she’d had. “I think this might be one of the best days of my life,” she said softly. “I’ve had so much fun today. Everything has been so…amazing.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” she nodded her head. “I know this is my first vacation ever, but I could get used to this.”

Morgan laughed, giving her a quick kiss. “I’ll bring you here anytime you want Bumblebee. You just tell me when.”

She bit her lip again, and Morgan couldn’t take it, so he leaned in to kiss her and he wasn’t able to stop. She reciprocated readily and she felt him move in the water, back to the edge, so he could push her up against it. As the kisses got heavier and steamier, Bee couldn’t help but run her hands through Morgan’s wet hair and drag her nails down the muscles in his back. As was usual, Morgan began leaving a trail of kisses along her jawline and down her neck, making sure to move back up to her lips and stick his tongue down her throat.

“Briony?” he said when he pulled away to catch his breath. He gulped. Her lips were swollen from all the kissing.

“Hmmm?”

“I love you.”

She tried not to let her body freeze up. She tried not to look shocked, or stunned, or that she wasn’t expecting it at all, because she had been for a little while now, because she knew the feeling was there with him, even if he hadn’t said the three words yet, and quite frankly, the feeling was there with her too, it’s just that she didn’t have the confidence like he did to say it out loud first, and - -

“Briony?” his voice, nervous as ever, interrupted her internal thoughts.

“I love you too Morgan,” she said automatically, adamant to not overthink it. Love was complicated, so complicated, but love was also simple. If you loved someone, you knew. End of story. The feeling could creep up, the feeling could come all at once, the feeling could overwhelm and engulf you completely, but when you knew, you knew.

Morgan and Briony knew.


	20. Chapter 19

“So, like…how old were you when you learned how to skate?” Bee asked nervously as her leg was tucked between Morgan’s thighs.

“Three,” he said, concentrating more on tightening and fastening the skate on her foot; he wanted to make sure it wasn’t too tight so her feet had enough room to breathe, but so tight as to suffocate them. It was a delicate balance.

“So you’ve had a little bit of practice then,” she said, making a bad joke. Morgan looked up at her, a smirk on his face. “Sorry.”

“There’s no reason to be nervous, Bumblebee,” he said, tightening the laces one last time. “It’s not like I’m gonna throw you out there and let you fend for yourself.”

“I know,” she nodded her head, looking out at the rink in Hollyburn Country Club and all the people skating on it already. “I’m just nervous about making a complete ass of myself.”

“Impossible.”

“How so?”

“Cause you’ve got a great teacher,” he winked, grabbing her other leg and putting it between his thighs. “How does the first skate feel?”

“Good.”

“Yoohoo! Over here!” they both heard Shirley’s voice call from beside them. She had her phone in her hand, pointed towards them. “Smile for the camera!” They did as they were told, and she snapped a cute picture, giving them thumbs up before walking back towards Andy, who was waiting for her at the entrance to the ice.

From behind Morgan, Connor knocked on the glass, and Bee could hear him yell _“Hurry up!”_ through the glass before skating away. She giggled as she watched Morgan tie up the skate and set her foot down. “How does that one feel?”

“Good. You promise not to let go?” she asked as she stood up.

“Just like swimming,” he nodded his head, getting onto the ice before her. “Bend your knees a little bit, okay? You can’t start with stiff knees.”

Bee held on to Morgan’s hands as she stepped out onto the ice, slipping almost automatically, unable to keep her balance. Morgan’s strong arms pulled her back up as she yelped in fear. “Heeeeyyy hey hey hey, calm down, calm down. Take it slow. You can’t be Connor McDavid right away.”

“Who’s Connor McDavid?”

“Forget it,” he laughed. “Just stand, okay? Forget trying to make strides. Just stand and get used to the feeling of the blades under your feet.”

Bee listened intently to Morgan as he patiently, painstakingly, taught her how to skate. She clung onto his hands for dear life half the time, pleading for him not to let go, and he was so patient with her, not once telling her to let go unless she was ready. When she finally was, he was her biggest fan, cheering her on as he skated backwards and she skated towards him. Eventually, she grew confident enough to skate away from the boards, not relying on them to save her in case she fell and had to get up. She was even skating with her hands relaxed at her sides and not straight out to help her keep her balance. She even held hands with Morgan as he slowed down to skate with her, helping her stop and turn when she got too close to the boards. She wasn’t exactly Connor McDavid – whoever that was – but she was gliding along the ice nonetheless. She couldn’t believe she’d waited 23 years to skate.

After about an hour and a half, Bee was tired and Shirley had approached Morgan to tell him some kids were waiting for him to get his autograph and a picture. Bee gave him a quick kiss before she skated off and Morgan skated towards the kids. She sat on the same bench as she had before when Morgan was fastening her skates, resting her legs as she watched him pose for picture after picture. She felt her phone buzz from her back pocket and moved to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” Angie’s voice was heard on the other end. “What are you up to right now?” she asked. They had been texting throughout Bee’s time there, so Angie didn’t need to ask how everything was going.

“Just watching Morgan sign some autographs,” she said.

“He took you to an autograph signing?”

“No no. We’re at the country club his family are members of, and all the kids swarmed him on the ice after he taught me how to skate.”

“A country club? That’s adorable,” Angie said quickly. “Um, listen. I’m calling you to ask you for a favour.”

“What favour is that?” Bee asked, worried about Angie’s quick tone.

“I think it’s time to put your Instagram on private now, and I’d delete everyone you don’t know personally.”

Bee’s heart skipped a beat. She and Angie had talked about the messages, but this was the first time Angie had cautioned her to go private. Usually, Angie contributed a _‘fuck them’_ or _‘You should put on all the most expensive stuff you bought and take a picture with Morgan and caption it go to hell’_. She’d never sounded so serious about it a she did now. “Why?”

“Listen, I don’t want to freak you out, but they’re adding me now, and asking me questions about you. I’m not saying they’re harassing me – quite the opposite actually because I’m the one telling them to fuck off – but I don’t want them to start doing that to anyone else,” she explained. “I think it’s great that you don’t care about what they have to say, but I don’t want them bothering more and more people.”

“Yeah. Yeah of course,” Bee said absent-mindedly. “Fuck Angie, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” she said. “They’re desperate and they don’t know boundaries. When everybody shares everything on social media, they think they’re entitled to see everything about your life, and they don’t get that they’re not.”

“Exactly.”

“Just be careful. Work on it as soon as possible. Again, I know you don’t care about what they have to say, but I think now is the time to cut them off.”

“Yeah. Yeah okay,” Bee gulped. “Angie, what did they say to you? Was it horrible?”

“No, nothing like that. They’ve just been asking question about you, like what you do and if you’re dating Morgan. One girl asked if I had any pictures of you two together. It was really weird. But I told them all to fuck off.”

“Angie, I feel horrible.”

“Don’t feel horrible because they don’t know boundaries. It was fine if it was just one or two of them, but then there was a horde and it just became annoying,” she explained. “And you know me, I’m a petty person – at least I can be. If I were you, I’d post a single picture of you and Morgan before you go private and delete everyone. Kick ‘em where it really hurts.”

Bee couldn’t help but laugh at her suggestion. “I’ll think about it.”

*

Later that day, during their last night in Vancouver, Bee found herself at dinner with Morgan and his parents at the exclusive Gotham Restaurant in downtown Vancouver. Morgan wanted to go out with a bang, apparently, because caviar was $150, then they had to get a round of oysters, the bottle of cabernet franc from Napa Valley was $345, and Bee’s filet and lobster with mashed potatoes and asparagus was a $100 plate _alone_. He told the waiter everything like it was an order at McDonalds. Though she was somewhat getting used to the big spending – at least to her standards – this was pretty extravagant. But all she could do was blink and smile as she tallied the expense of everyone’s order. Maybe she should have become a waitress instead, because theirs was going to get one hell of a tip tonight.

Despite trying to feel accustomed to the extravagance around her, she was genuinely having fun with Morgan and his parents. They were sharing stories of Morgan’s youth and what he was like as a kid, and Shirley kept sharing pictures she had on her phone of him as a kid (“I always keep some on here in case Hockey Night in Canada wants to do a quick something on him when the Leafs come to town.”). Andy and Shirley even went so far as to tell embarrassing stories of what he would call about during his first year in Toronto when he was attempting to cook for himself. Bee learned that he was completely useless, and that eventually the calls stopped because he just admitted defeat and ordered most of his food.

As they continued to laugh and share stories, Bee felt her phone buzz from inside her bag. She decided to ignore it at first, but not even one minute later it was buzzing again, and she couldn’t ignore it anymore. She quickly unclasped her purse and looked at her phone. In large caps lock font, ‘TORONTO POLICE SERVICES’ flashed on her screen.

Her heart began to race. She looked up quickly at Andy and Shirley, and looked down at her phone screen again. She couldn’t tell them that that the police were calling her, but she needed a way out. She had to think fast. “I’m really sorry,” she announced, getting up from her seat quickly. “I’m really sorry, but U of T is calling me. I have to take this.”

“That’s alright honey,” Shirley smiled. Bee was thankful they had already finished their meal and were just waiting on their dessert orders anyway. “You go ahead. I’ll make sure Morgan doesn’t eat your crème brulee.”

Bee made a beeline away from the table and swiped across her screen to answer the phone call so she wouldn’t lose it again. She made her way towards the long hallway that led to the washrooms, hoping she’d get decent service and enough silence to be able to hear. “Hello?”

“Hello, am I speaking with Ms. Briony McTavish?”

“Speaking.”

“Ms. McTavish, my name is Greg Campbell. I’m calling from the Toronto Police Department, 51 Division. Do you have a few moments to speak with me?”

Bee furrowed her brows. “Uh, of course. Is everything okay?” she asked. She didn’t remember doing anything illegal, and the only other reason they could be calling her was the break and enter from November. She figured since so much time had passed, they never found anything.

“Ms. McTavish, are you currently residing in Toronto?”

“Y-Yes…” she answered. “I mean, I’m not in Toronto _right now_ – I’m in Vancouver visiting my boyfriend’s parents – but yes, I live permanently in Toronto,” she explained.

“And Ms. McTavish, according to records I have on file here, you were legally emancipated from your mother, Ms. Sharon McTavish, when you were sixteen years old.”

Bee’s body stiffened at the mention of her mother. “Yes I was. My mother was a serious alcoholic.”

“Have you been in touch with your mother since you were emancipated from her?”

“No,” Bee said definitively. “She barely showed love or affection throughout my whole life with her, and I thought it best for my mental health not to keep in contact with her after the emancipation. She has never tried to contact me either.”

“Ms. McTavish, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable with these questions – I just need to get the specifics of the case --”

“What case is that?”

Greg hesitated on the other end. “Ms. McTavish, I regret to inform you that your mother has passed away. She was found dead on the morning of Friday, January 25th due to cirrhosis of the liver.”

Bee went quiet. Her mother was dead. Found dead. Dead due to cirrhosis of the liver. Dead. Morning of Friday. Whale watching. She was whale watching and her mother was dead. The silence between the two was long before Bee verbalized her first thought out loud. “She’s dead.”

“Yes ma’am. She passed away early Friday morning. Her body was found by a volunteer at the homeless shelter where she was staying that night.”

If it was possible, her body stiffened even more. “She was homeless?”

“Well, temporarily. She was at the Fred Victor Homeless Shelter here in Moss Park. According to the facilitators she was in-between housing, but that’s where she was,” Greg said.

Bee took a sharp breath in hearing that name again. She took a moment to collect herself before trying to formulate a thought other than _‘She’s dead’_. “Um…so, what are my next steps then?”

“Well Ms. McTavish, you were the only person listed as being of relation to Sharon, so you automatically become in charge of her estate,” Greg explained. Bee was thoroughly surprised she was still listed under anything to do with her mother, even after the emancipation. “There is…not much, as you can imagine, but some decisions still have to be made. And as the defacto executor of her estate, you may choose the next steps – if you would like her buried, or cremated…”

“Um…” Bee looked quickly back at Morgan and his parents sitting at the table. His mom was taking a sip of wine while Morgan was nodding at something his dad was saying. Morgan broke out into a grin soon after, as did his dad. Morgan looked over to Bee’s empty seat. “When…I mean, when do I have to make these decisions?”

“Well I understand that you’re in Vancouver, but is there an expected date for your return?”

“Um, I’ll be back Friday night, actually.”

“Well, then I will give you my contact information, and when you get back, I can meet with you at the station and explain your next options,” Greg offered kindly. “I don’t want to rush you to make decisions, and I know you were clearly not close with your mother and haven’t been in contact with her for a while, but do you think there will be a funeral service?”

“No.”

“Or a burial?”

“Cremation. I don’t…I don’t want anything fancy.”

“Alright Ms. McTavish. We will speak when you’re back in Toronto.”

Bee hung up the phone, looking down at it until the screen went dark and she couldn’t even formulate a coherent thought about the conversation she just had. Her mother was dead. Her mother – whom she hadn’t seen or spoken to for seven years – was dead. Her mother, the serious alcoholic. The emotional abuser. The not-a-mother-at-all. She tried to compose herself, even though she wasn’t crying at all, as she looked back at Morgan and his parents. They were still laughing about something.

She returned to the table, trying to mask her uneasiness at the phone conversation she just had. She pulled out her chair, getting the attention of everyone. “Everything okay?” Andy asked as she settled back into her seat.

“Everything’s fine,” she nodded her head quickly, tucking herself in and stuffing her phone back into her bag.

“You sure? Who was it?” Morgan asked, grabbing her hand gently underneath the table.

“It was just a registrar from U of T,” she lied, smiling at him. “Just wanted to confirm something on my transcript before they printed my copy for the interview.”

She could feel his thumb rubbing her hand gently as his dad recapped the story he had been telling quickly before continuing it. She felt bad about lying, but there was no way in hell she was going to say something and ruin such a perfect night. Though she smiled and laughed along, squeezing Morgan’s hand as it rested on her thigh, all she could think about was the image of her mom lying on a bed in a homeless shelter.

Dead.

*

When they arrived back at the Rielly house that night after dinner, Bee made sure to pack up her belongings, save for what she was going to need tomorrow morning and wear on the flight. To be respectful to Morgan’s parents, she and Morgan had stayed in their respective rooms the entire trip, not daring to try to sneak into each other’s, but tonight he was with her, helping her pack and getting everything ready. His parents had already called it a night and were in their room at the opposite end of the house. The house was so big that they probably wouldn’t even have known or heard if either of them had snuck into the other’s room at night.

To be completely honest, Bee wanted nothing more than that to happen tonight. She didn’t know what she was feeling in relation to the news she got after dinner, but she knew that she didn’t want to be alone. She knew that she wanted Morgan with her, around her in some capacity.

When they were finished packing everything and had changed into their pajamas, Morgan watched as Bee stared at the wall absent-mindedly, something obviously bothering her. He came up behind her and sat on the bed beside her, giving her a quick kiss on the temple and leaving a trail of kisses on her shoulder. “Briony…” he mumbled against her skin.

“Hmm?”

“Are you sure it was just U of T that called at dinner?” Morgan asked.

She knew he would ask sooner or later. She’d tried not to let anything show, but besides Angie, there was nobody more in tune with her emotions than Morgan. She knew he’d pick up on it. “Why?”

“Listen, I don’t mean to pry. It’s just I noticed that you were a bit different since you got back. My mom noticed it too because she’s sensitive about these things but she didn’t want to say anything. Is…is everything okay?”

Bee let out a shaky breath, one that, truthfully, she had been holding in since she got the call. “Mo…”

He grabbed her had and brought it up to his lips to kiss it gently. “What’s the matter, Bumblebee? Tell me.”

“It wasn’t U of T that called.”

“Okay. Who was it?”

“It was a guy named Greg Campbell. He’s a police officer with 51 Division in Toronto.”

Morgan looked at her skeptically. “You’re telling me after all this time they found your stuff?”

“No…it’s not…” she shook her head. She let out another shaky breath before continuing. “Um, he called me to tell me my mom passed away. A volunteer at a homeless shelter found her, and she died from cirrhosis of the liver.”

Bee could practically see Morgan’s heart fall into his stomach. He opened his mouth a few times to say something, but nothing came out for a while, until, “Oh my God, Briony…wh…why didn’t you say something?”

“I wasn’t going to say something at dinner with your parents,” she said.

“Briony, your _mother_ passed away.”

“I don’t want to make a big deal out of this. She’s dead, and I always knew she was going to die from the alcoholism, so this isn’t as much of a surprise to me as you think it is,” she explained. “I don’t…I’m not upset by this. I haven’t spoken to her in seven years. She was _abusive_.”

It was the first time she had said the words so definitively out loud. _She was abusive_. They weren’t pretty words, but they needed to be said. And Morgan needed to hear them. It was the reason she wasn’t crying. She couldn’t feel sadness or sympathy for her abuser, or for a woman who wasted her life on alcohol instead of caring for her daughter.

Morgan had no choice but to accept what she was saying. He could tell her _‘But that’s your mom’_ over and over again until he was blue in the face, but it wasn’t going to have an effect on Bee. To Bee, Sharon wasn’t a mom. There was nothing that could convince her that she was. And truthfully, Morgan knew she was right. And if that’s the way Bee felt, then that’s the way he felt about it too. If she didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, then he would try not to make a big deal out of it either. “She…cirrhosis of the liver? What is that?”

“It’s complicated, but just know it’s not good. It’s a common by-product of severe alcoholism,” she explained. “But the fact of the matter is that she died. When we go back to Toronto, I have to deal with her funeral and her estate.”

“I’ll come with you,” he said automatically.

“You don’t--”

“I _want_ to,” he interrupted her. “What did I tell you? You don’t have to go through this stuff alone anymore. We’re going to go through this stuff together.”

Bee looked at him. All 6’1” of him, blonde hair, blue eyes, muscles tucked into pajama shorts and an old t-shirt. He was so boyish and so handsome and he had his pick of any girl in Toronto and he managed to choose the one with the fucked up childhood and alcoholic mother who had just died. And he was still here after learning all that. He still flew her to Vancouver to meet his parents. He still volunteered to see a dead alcoholic’s body ravaged by cirrhosis. She didn’t deserve him. “Morgan?”

“Mhmm?”

“Can you…can you just like, hold me?”

“C’mere, Bumblebee,” he moved to hold her in his arms as he tucked them both into bed. She used his chest as a pillow as he wrapped both his arms around her. “I love you Briony. We’re going to get through this together.”

“I love you too. And I know we will,” she said, looking up at him.

He gave her a quick kiss. “I don’t know what you’re feeling right now, and I know I won’t be able to understand, but you’re allowed to feel whatever you want,” he said. “I know that she was your mom, but she was a horrible mom, so there’s gonna be, like, a range of emotions. But you’re allowed to feel it all. Don’t think you’re not.”

“I’ll be okay, Mo,” she said, giving him another quick kiss before relaxing her head on his chest. He ran his fingers through her hair soothingly, reducing all the stiffness and pent up emotion she had in her. She knew he would try to stay awake as long as possible, just in case she said anything or wanted to talk about it further, but after a while, she felt his heartbeat steady, and she knew he was asleep.

*

Bee had slept all of twenty minutes at most. When she looked over at the alarm clock and it read 3am, she sighed heavily. She didn’t know what to do. She _wanted_ to sleep, she really did, but every time she closed her eyes and her mind started to drift, an image from her childhood would reappear, and she’d snap her eyes open and be wide awake again. Images of her mom passed out on the couch when she got home from school; of sitting at the kitchen table doing homework, watching her mom open another bottle on the kitchen counter; of looking up at her mom sleeping on the bed in the homeless shelter while she was sleeping on the floor using her backpack as a pillow.

Slowly but surely, she manoeuvred herself out of Morgan’s grasp, sitting on the edge of the bed for a while, staring out the window into the pristine darkness of the West Vancouver sky. Her mother was dead. She always knew she would have to say that one day, but she didn’t imagine it being so soon. A small part of her actually thought she _wouldn’t_ have to say that one day, because nobody would contact her to tell her, so she wouldn’t know at all. But she knew now, and she couldn’t get it out of her head.

After coming to terms with the fact that she wouldn’t be able to sleep, she thought going to the kitchen and grabbing a glass of water was a better alternative to looking out of a window into darkness. She tip-toed quietly down the stairs and made her way there, grabbing a glass and trying to figure out how to work the built-in icemaker on the Rielly’s new fridge that looked like it belonged in space rather than a house. When she couldn’t figure it out, she resorted to just getting water from the tap and drinking it warm.

“Are you okay?” Bee suddenly heard a voice whisper. She jumped dramatically, turning around to see Andy standing at the entrance of the kitchen in his pajamas with a bathrobe on.

“Oh God. I’m sorry. You scared me,” her hand went over her heart.

“Why are you apologizing?” he asked, laughing a bit. “You thirsty?”

“Uh, yeah…” she said, looking down at the glass of tap water in her hand. “I couldn’t figure out how to use your space fridge to get ice though.”

Andy snorted. “Maybe we should go back to using ice trays,” he laughed, pulling open the fridge door to get out the orange juice. He grabbed a glass and set it down on the table, pulling out a chair. “Sit, honey.”

Bee didn’t want to say no. There was no reason she could have, anyway, so she took the invitation and sat in a seat opposite of him as he poured orange juice into his cup. She watched as he took a long gulp, swallowing almost half of the juice he just poured, before he focused his attention back to her. “Was everything okay after dinner?”

Bee tried to look away from him but she couldn’t. He was staring right at her and she was sitting across from him and there was no way in hell she could deny him an answer. The only thing she could do was prolong it. “Why do you ask?”

Andy shuffled a bit in his seat. “Listen. I don’t mean to pry,” he said, starting the conversation the exact same way Morgan did. God, now she _really_ knew where he got it from. “Shirley and I just noticed a little bit of a…_shift_ when you came back. I just want to make sure everything is okay.”

She decided to just come right out with it. “How much has Morgan told you about my mom?”

Andy looked taken aback by the question. It wasn’t like she was trying to call his bluff or anything – she knew Morgan had told his parents about it, as evident from the conversation she had with Shirley on their first day here – but she wondered if he talked about it more with his mom, or if Shirley told Andy. His answer was important because it determined how she would start and handle the conversation. “Morgan’s told me about her addiction issues. How she was an alcoholic,” he clarified. “A pretty severe one, it seemed. And how you guys moved around a lot because of it.”

Bee nodded her head. “Well, that phone call at dinner was from a police officer named Greg Campbell. He called to let me know my mom passed away. She was found dead in a homeless shelter due to cirrhosis of the liver.”

Andy stayed quiet. It wasn’t a lot of information to take in, but it was a stab in the heart nonetheless. Over the past few days he’d been able to see how happy she made his son, and it was something he loved to see. To hear that she had gotten a phone call like that, on her last night of what was supposed to be a vacation, was horrible. “I’m very sorry to hear that,” he said solemnly.

“And that’s the thing – I’m not,” she admitted for the first time out loud. “I know…I know that sounds harsh and rude and completely…_inhuman_, but I’m not sad about it. I’m not sorry.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t be sorry for someone that never acted like a real mother,” she said gingerly. She ran the risk of exposing her entire heart and soul to her boyfriend’s father over the kitchen table at three o’clock in the morning, but right now, she didn’t care. “She was never loving. She was never caring. She never did anything to prove herself worthy of the title of being called mom. She cared more about herself and her addiction than she ever did me.”

“That’s understandable --”

“Plus,” she inadvertently interrupted him, “she never worked to make herself better. I can’t feel sad for a person that caused me so much pain in my life, regardless of whether or not she was my mother. She never acted like it. And after not seeing her for almost seven years, I don’t even feel a connection to her anymore. Quite frankly, even when I was living with her, I hardly did.”

“I get it, Briony. I get it _as much_ as I can get it,” he said. She was thankful he acknowledged that he could never _truly_ know. “I know how much pain she caused you and I know she didn’t make your life easy. You don’t have to feel sympathy or sadness. She doesn’t deserve that from you and _I get it_. But you have to be feeling _something_.”

Bee was scared to reveal what she was really feeling. She knew if she verbalized it, if she put it out in the open, that it would become real. It would no longer just be something she felt internally, something she could lie about to people’s faces to make them think she was fine. “I feel…I feel _relief_,” she finally admitted, to herself and to Andy. A stray tear fell down her cheek, and she wiped it away quickly. One tear was too many to shed. “I feel like I giant weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I feel like it’s finally…_over_. That I can move on. I don’t have to think about her anymore. I won’t toss and turn at night thinking about what has happened to me. I won’t lie awake thinking about what she could be doing or who she could be with or what she could have been up to these seven years, if the alcoholism got worse, if she got into anything else. I just…I don’t have to think about it anymore. It’s done. _It’s done_.”

Andy moved his chair so he was closer to her before putting a comforting hand on her forearm. “It’s okay to feel that way.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. Absolutely,” he said firmly, nodding his head. “You have every right to feel that way and it is one hundred percent validated by what you went through, and don’t let anybody try to convince you otherwise. She was an awful mother, and you separated yourself and got out of that situation as quickly as you could, and if anybody needs to be commended in this situation, it’s you.”

“There was one time…” she began, shaking her head to herself, wondering if she should even tell him the story. The only other person she’d told was Angie – she hadn’t even told Morgan. “There was one time, I must have been 11 or 12. I was so angry at her one day. We had no food in the apartment, nothing – I had been eating saltine crackers for dinner for at least four days. She was standing at the kitchen counter opening another bottle of vodka she’d bought instead. And I was so angry. I asked her, ‘Why are you like this?’ And she looked at me – she didn’t even bother answering the question – she just looked at me and said, ‘You’re staring into your future, Bee. It’s inevitable. What I am is what you will be.’ And I told her that hell would freeze over before I became a degenerate like her. And she grabbed…” Bee paused, remembering the moment so vividly in her mind, as if it had just happened yesterday, even going so far as to pretend to grab a glass with her hand for emphasis, “she grabbed the glass that was on the counter, and she hurled it straight towards my head. I ducked, and it hit the fridge behind me and shattered all over the floor by my feet. We stared at each other for a few seconds before I said, ‘I hate you with every fibre of my being’. She didn’t even respond. She didn’t even grab another glass either, she just took the bottle straight to the couch and began to swig it.”

It was clear Andy was uncomfortable. To think that a parent could ever do that to a child was incomprehensible to him – it was incomprehensible to _most_ people, not just him. And yet, she had to live through it. He quickly wiped a tear that had fallen onto his cheek. “You were born for a life so much better than what you were placed in,” his voice was soft, still reflecting and picturing the scene she had painted for him in his mind.

“That’s what I left behind. That’s the weight that’s been lifted off my shoulders. I don’t have to think about that anymore.”

“Did it ever happen again? Did your mother ever hit you?” Andy asked.

Bee shook her head vehemently. “She was always too drunk. It was more so emotional, if we’re referring to abuse. And, you know, neglect.”

“You deserved so much better. No child should have had to go through that,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m so happy you found us Briony. I’m so happy that you overcame that and you’re here with us now.”

“Thanks, Andy.”

“There’s no reason to thank me. You did it all yourself. I’m just thankful that you’re part of our family now.”

A sob escaped her at his last comment. She couldn’t hold it in anymore, and she let go, letting the tears well up in her eyes despite telling herself she wouldn’t cry. She didn’t want to shed tears over her mother, but she could shed tears over Andy saying something like _that_ to her. “You have no idea,” she said, shaking her head. “You have no idea how amazing these last few days have been. I’ve never felt so whole in my entire life.”

“I know sweetheart. I can tell.”

“I can’t even begin to, like…” she couldn’t find the right words as she wiped her tears with the back of her hand. “I immediately felt this sense of like, _warmness_ from the moment I met Morgan. He made me feel like I wasn’t alone anymore. That I had somebody. He’s been so good to me, Andy. So patient. You have to know how good he’s been. So understanding. You have to know you raised a good kid.”

“I know, sweetheart. Morgan adores you.”

“And then this week happened and you and Shirley and Connor have just been so _nice_ and I…I know it’s sad to say but the only other people I’ve felt that with is my best friend’s family. But you guys are just so _good_, and I’ve had to pinch myself constantly this entire week.”

“I --”

“I don’t know what I did to deserve that comment you just made, about being part of your family. I don’t…I don’t know. But I love Morgan so much, and I know he loves me, and I know I’m gonna spend the rest of my life thanking my lucky stars that all this happened. And you have to know, _you have to know_, if hockey ended tomorrow I’d still love him with everything I have in me because he makes me feel so whole --”

“Sweetheart, sweetheart, _I know_,” Andy stressed, grabbing hold of her hands and squeezing them tightly as she let out a quick _‘I’m not in it for that’_. “I know. You don’t have to prove yourself to me. I can see it. Shirley and I – _we_ can see it.”

“I just don’t want you to think --”

“I was _never_ thinking that at all,” Andy shook his head. “You’re the farthest thing from what you’re implying and I know how much you care about my son.” He let go of her hands so she could wipe her remaining tears away. “Listen to me. You are deserving of every little good thing that comes your way, via my son or otherwise. You can’t feel like you don’t deserve it. _Everybody_ deserves good things to happen to them.” Bee nodded her head at his words, trying to internalize them as much as possible. “You’re a great girl Briony, and you deserve the world. Everybody around you sees it. You just need to start seeing it too.”

Bee took a couple of minutes to calm down. She knew that everything Andy had just said was right, and she needed that time to really take it in. To accept it and own it and live with it as her new life mantra was going to be a separate battle, but right now, she needed to acknowledge the deeply intense heart-to-heart she’d just had, and how she felt much more clear about things – about her _future_ – than she had coming into the conversation. “Thank you for listening, Andy.”

He smiled. “There’s no reason to thank me. This is what dads are for, Briony.”

“I’m sorry if I --”

“Don’t apologize for a single thing,” he said. “You just remember what I told you. That’s the only thing you need to do here. Remember that you are deserving of love.”

“Is everything okay?” Morgan’s voice, groggy and sleepy, was suddenly heard form the entrance of the kitchen. He stood in his pajamas, taking in the scene before him.

“Briony and I were just thirsty,” Andy said quickly, giving Bee a quick wink before getting up and putting his glass in the sink. “She couldn’t work our space fridge to get ice, either.”

“We should go back to using ice trays,” Morgan quipped. Briony couldn’t help but laugh – he and his father were truly the same person. She walked towards him, a small smile creeping on her face. He hoped that in his state, he wouldn’t notice that she had been crying, or that her eyes were red from the tears. “You okay?” he whispered.

“Yeah. Let’s go back to bed,” she said, looking back at Andy. “Thanks again, Andy.”

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he smiled as they disappeared down the hallway.

When they got back into bed, Bee cuddled closer to Morgan, draping her arm over his torso so she could feel the warmth of his body heat against hers. “You sure everything is okay?” he whispered.

She nodded her head. “Yeah. Andy’s a really good dad,” was all she could say.

“He’s the best,” Morgan agreed, his eyes fluttering closed. “He’s who I want to be.”

“You’re already there, baby,” she whispered before they both fell asleep.


	21. Chapter 20

Briony always knew she’d end up back at Fred Victor Homeless Shelter.

It was inevitable. It was the shelter of choice for her mother, especially when they were in-between housing, because they offered women’s shelters throughout the city. Her mother would have to stay sober while living there, which is why they could only ever “live” there for two weeks at a time. Eventually, they’d move into a new public housing unit somewhere, or in a room in someone’s basement who would just feed Sharon’s addiction to alcohol. Eventually, they’d have to move out because of reasons Briony never really fully understood, or because her mother ran out of money. Eventually, they’d end up back at a Fred Victor Homeless Shelter, and they’d start the process all over again.

Fred Victor was always lovely to them. They had strict rules (like sobriety) and were very clean, and usually because they were considered a ‘family’ they’d get one room to themselves. Sometimes if it was winter and space was tight that room would only have a single bed, though, and Sharon would take it while Bee slept on the floor beside her, using her school knapsack as a pillow. Once, one of the women who worked at the shelter was nice enough to drive Briony to school in the morning for an entire week so that she wouldn’t have to walk the few kilometres.

It was no wonder, then, that when Briony opened the doors to Fred Victor in Moss Park, she felt like she was right at home. She had stayed at this shelter many, many times. There were a few people outside of the door smoking, but they didn’t even blink twice as she walked by them in her professional outfit and YSL bag. It looked just like she remembered.

“Hello,” the woman at the desk smiled warmly. “How may I help you?”

“Hi…” Briony said, her voice queasy. “Umm…I’m uh, I’m looking to find someone who knew…um…someone.”

The woman looked at her strangely. “Okay…”

“I…I was told that my mother was living here recently. Her name was Sharon McTavish. She died about a week ago and she was apparently found by someone who worked here,” Briony said.

The woman behind the desk nodded in understanding. “Would you like to speak with the member of staff who found her?”

“Yes please. I mean, if they’re working today.”

“Give me a second,” she said, picking up her phone receiver and dialling an extension. It was only a few seconds before someone apparently answered on the other end. “Cindy? Sharon McTavish’s daughter is here and she’d like to speak with you.”

A door opened from across the foyer. A woman sat on an office chair, piles of files on top of her desk. “Are you Sharon’s daughter?” the woman asked. Her hair was curly, tied back in a tight bun.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Come with me,” she said, waving her into the small office.

Bee did as she was told, stepping into the office and closing the door behind her. It was small and cramped, paperwork _everywhere_. Cindy had photos of her at various Fred Victor fundraising events framed on the wall above her desk. There were two chairs available and Bee decided to sit in the one furthest from the door. “Thank you for speaking to me on such short notice. I’m Briony, but you can call me Bee,” she said politely, nestling into the seat and keeping her purse on her lap.

“I’m real sorry about your mom,” Cindy said. “I was working the night shift that night and I was doing checks when I found her. I called 9-1-1 immediately. Didn’t know if it was just alcohol poisoning.”

“Thank you for doing that,” Bee said.

“Your mom was here often. More often than she liked, I think,” Cindy said, sorting some papers on her desk.

“So she was still an alcoholic?” Briony asked.

“Sure was,” Cindy nodded sadly. “At first she was sober when she came here. You know, our rules and all. And she could handle the sobriety. She told me at one point – she’d been living here a month – she told me that month was the longest amount of time she’d ever been sober since she was eighteen.”

“That sounds right for her,” Briony commented.

“Eventually I think it got too much for her. She started bingeing again. She started showing up here drunk. She’d try to hide it but we knew. We all knew. The other patrons knew. Thank god they did, because they’d be the first ones to tell her she needed to be sober to stay here. She was breaking the rules all the time.”

“Did she stop drinking just to come back here?”

“Eventually. We hammered down the law with her. But she was still iffy. Addiction is a disease, as you know,” Cindy said. She paused for a moment, unsure if she should proceed with what she wanted to say. “You want me to tell you the truth?”

“Yes.”

“No matter how bad it is?”

“No matter how bad it is.”

Cindy took a deep breath in. She stared at Bee, taking in her outfit and how stiff Bee was sitting in her seat. “When she was sober she talked about you. Said she had a daughter that left her when she turned sixteen. Said that once you left she didn’t have to care about anything anymore because she knew you’d take care of yourself.”

Bee couldn’t help but snort lightly. “She never cared in the first place.”

Cindy shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe not. I don’t know what you and your mom went through – I only know about her life here and what she told me,” she said. “All I know is she kept saying she never had to worry about another person anymore.”

“She’s not wrong.”

Cindy nodded her head. “What are you up to these days?”

“I have a Master’s degree. I just went for a job interview today at Scotiabank,” Bee informed her.

“Good for you,” Cindy smiled, nodding her head. “So you made something of yourself.”

“Sure did.”

“I’m sure Sharon would have liked to hear that.”

Bee noticed that Cindy didn’t say what people usually said – _I’m sure she would be proud of you_. Cindy and Briony knew she’d be lying if she said it. Sharon was never proud of her. Sharon was never proud of anything. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Was she addicted to anything else?”

Cindy shook her head. “Just alcohol. She went for regular testing, especially if she was here, to make sure she wasn’t taking anything else. Police told me once they did the autopsy it was cirrhosis of the liver, anyway.”

“Yeah. I just…I don’t know. I wanted to make sure she never got into more serious shit,” Bee shrugged her shoulders. “It was always alcohol when I lived with her but I wanted to make sure she didn’t get into crack or heroin or any of that. Some of her friends were into that and I just…”

“No. She was good that way. She loved her alcohol more than anything,” Cindy said.

“Can I ask you another question?”

“You can ask as many questions as you want, sweetheart.”

Bee battled with herself, wondering if she even wanted to know. Cindy was giving her more than enough information for what she wanted in the first place. What Bee wanted now was just superfluous. “Was she…I mean, was she alone? Did she have any friends that I could maybe speak to? See if they knew any more about how she lived?”

To Bee’s surprise, Cindy nodded her head. “Let me make a quick call to a room,” she said, picking up her receiver. “There’s a man here named Jeremiah that was friends with your mom, always encouraging her to stay sober.”

Bee nodded her head, Cindy’s voice calling him down in the background to her thoughts. She tried to think of her mother living here alone, without her, in a single room and not a family room like they used to get. She tried to imagine her life, any friends she may have had, the clothing she wore, anything. Anything that would help her visualize her final days.

She must have been daydreaming for a while, because her thoughts were interrupted not by Cindy, but by a knock on the office door. Cindy opened and a middle-aged man walked in, wearing a blue sweater and track pants. “Jeremiah, I’d like you to meet Ms. McTavish. She’s Sharon’s daughter,” Cindy introduced them.

“It’s nice to meet you, Jeremiah,” Bee smiled politely, extending her hand to shake his. “My name’s Briony, but you can call me Bee.”

He seemed genuinely shocked that she’d want to shake his hand. He looked down at it for a few moments, thinking she was joking, but when he realized she wasn’t he shook it slowly. “You’re Sharon’s daughter?” Jeremiah asked. Bee nodded her head. “I’m sorry that your mom died.”

“Thank you.”

“Ms. McTavish has some questions for you, Jeremiah. We were wondering if you could answer them,” Cindy said.

“Yeah. I mean, I’ll try,” he looked over at Bee. “What do you want to know?”

“I’d just…I wonder if you can tell me about what my mom was like before she passed,” she said. “I know she was still an alcoholic, but I just want to know what her life was like before she passed away.”

“Well, she was splitting her time between three different places,” Jeremiah said. “There was here, there was the other shelter that don’t care whether people are sober, and most of the time she stayed with friends. Somebody had a room in a rooming house and she’d be there,” he explained. “The odd time I’d see her in the park but that wasn’t often.”

Bee knew that meant she was sleeping on a park bench. The stereotype. “And uh…her addiction stayed with alcohol?”

“Oh yeah. She loved alcohol,” he responded immediately. He paused. “Are you the daughter that left her?”

Bee nodded her head. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“She told me about you.”

“What did she say?”

“She didn’t like you very much,” he was brutally honest with his language. “Said you left her and that you never tried to find her again. But I know she never tried to find you either because all she ever wanted to find was more alcohol to drink, you know,” he shrugged his shoulders. “She said because you never went to find her, and because she never went to find you, that it musta meant you two didn’t care about each other at all. She said that because you weren’t with her she couldn’t get family rooms at shelters anymore.”

Bee couldn’t help but laugh. Sharon couldn’t use her anymore, which is why she was angry with her until her dying day. “It figures,” she said under her breath.

“I don’t know if Sharon loved you, Ms. McTavish, but I knew she had confidence that you would be alright,” Jeremiah said suddenly. “She always talked about how you took care of yourself, and how you took care of her when she was drunk. She knew you were better off without her. She wasn’t a smart lady to have a kid and be an alcoholic, but you lookin’ pretty fancy now, so that musta been one of the only smart things she said.”

Bee gave him a warm smile. Jeremiah was a wise man. Regardless of his circumstance, he was giving Bee everything she could have wanted right now. She would be forever grateful to him for giving her insight into her mother’s last days. “Who did she live with? You…you mentioned how she stayed with a friend most of the time.”

“It was in a rooming house on Seaton Street. Address number 41 or something like that. Guy always made room for her.”

“Thank you, Jeremiah,” she smiled at him. “Thank you for letting me know. And for being friends with my mom.”

“Well, you’re welcome,” Jeremiah said, standing up from his seat. He extended his hand for Bee to shake and she did so with a smile. “Ms. McTavish, I don’t know if you plan to go to the rooming house or not, but I’d be careful going there looking like that,” he cautioned. “You seem like a very nice lady with a good job and I just don’t want your purse to get stolen.”

Bee couldn’t help but smile wider. “Thanks Jeremiah. I’ll hold on tight.”

*

Morgan was pacing back and forth in his apartment, waiting for Briony to get home from her job interview that finished _four hours ago_. He was lenient in giving her one hour for the interview, expecting for her to call him to tell him about it and to come pick her up from Scotia Plaza. Instead, he got radio silence from her: no answered texts, no answered calls. Everything would go straight to voicemail. He began to worry three hours ago. He had texted Angie to see if Bee was with her – she wasn’t. He didn’t want to bring any of his teammates or their wives into this, so he was fully unable to concentrate for the past three hours. He was _this_ close to calling the police.

When he heard a key unlock the door and Bee stumble in, he rushed to the front entrance, downright angry with her and ready to let her know. It was completely irresponsible of her not to answer her phone when she knew he was waiting on her and, despite being grown a woman, pretty damn inconsiderate as well. “Briony, where the fuck were you?” he demanded. “Where is your phone?! I’ve been calling you for _four hours!_”

“I was out,” she mumbled.

“Yeah, thanks captain obvious,” he said sarcastically. “Briony, do you have any idea how worried I was? Where were you?”

“I was at the homeless shelter.”

“The…the homeless shelter?” his voice softened slightly once she revealed where she was. His anger dissipated as he took a couple of breaths. “Why would you go to the homeless shelter?”

“I wanted…I wanted to see where my mom died,” she revealed. He picked up on the stuttering and the mumbles. “Then I went to the…the rooming house where she had been living.”

“You went there _alone_?”

“Yeah. Lots of addicts there. Lots. I talked to a lot…a lot of them about my mom. They all knew her. They were all…addicted. Like her. This guy just charges them for room. Nobody used the kitchen. So I ordered them a few pizzas…made…made sure they ate.”

“Briony.”

“I can’t feel…my feet are cold,” she mumbled, looking down at her feet. They were in a plain pair of black flats that went well with her interview outfit. There had been no time to change since she had decided to go to the homeless shelter right after her interview. “My feet…my feet hurt.”

Her mind wasn’t there. It was somewhere else. It wasn’t in Morgan’s apartment, where she stood with aching feet, a burning sensation pulsating through them from the heat they now felt despite being in the cold for an hour. It wasn’t in the hallway with him, attempting to explain where she had been for the better part of four hours. “Jesus _fuck_, Briony. You didn’t walk all the way there and back did you?”

She didn’t nod her head, shake her head, anything. She just stumbled out of her shoes and Morgan had to catch her to prevent her from falling to the floor. “I’m not…I don’t…” she mumbled, and she caught him looking down at her feet. They were beet red. “I don’t know why I did it.”

“Fuck Bee, come on. Your feet need to go in a hot bath,” he said, picking her up in his arms. “I’ll bring you to the tub – the – no no, the couch – I’ll get a pot – we need you to sit on the couch and put your feet in warm water --”

He set her down on the couch and ran to get the biggest pot he had in his kitchen, filling it with warm water. Bee didn’t say a word as she sat on the couch. He wasn’t even sure if she noticed the flowers that had been delivered, six huge bouquets; one from Ashley and Naz; from Aryne and John; from Jake and Lucy; from Zach and Alannah; from Tyler, Fred, and Auston; and one on behalf of the entire Maple Leafs organization, signed by Brendan Shanahan, Kyle Dubas, and Mike Babcock. They overwhelmed the room, but she had no idea. He rushed back to her with the pot, getting on his hands and knees to take off her flats and dip her feet in the water.

“Does that feel okay?” he asked worriedly. “Is it too hot?”

“I don’t need to atone for this,” she said quietly, in no more than a whisper, barely audible so Morgan couldn’t hear her.

“What?”

“I don’t need to atone for this,” she said louder, finally looking at Morgan. “I don’t need to atone. I don’t need to like…_care_.”

“Of course you don’t,” Morgan agreed with her automatically. “You said it yourself Briony. She was never a mother.”

“It doesn’t matter how she lived before her death. It was the exact same,” she shook her head. “I shouldn’t care. It shows she never changed. I don’t need to atone for actions I had no control over.”

“Exactly, Bumblebee.”

She looked at him. She felt so bad for him. She was such an idiot and a wreck and didn’t call him or let him know where she was and she was awful. He didn’t deserve to worry about her. She cupped his face in one of her cold hands but he didn’t even wince. “I’m sorry I’m putting you through this,” she whispered.

“Putting me through what?”

“My mom dying. Me being like this.”

“You’re not putting me through anything. You just lost your mom. Things can be a lot worse.”

“You don’t have to make excuses for my behaviour.”

“I’m not making excuses,” he said. “Your mom died Briony. You went to see where she died. That’s normal. And now you know, and now you can move on. You’re free to do with that information whatever you choose.”

She nodded her head. “I’m gonna let it go. It’s not mine to hold on to. It shouldn’t be on my conscience.”

“That’s right,” Morgan nodded his head.

She bent down to kiss him quickly, leaning back on the couch as she licked her lips. “I’m sorry, Morgan. I really am.”

“It’s okay, Bumblebee,” he said, sitting on the couch beside her and pulling her body into his slightly, making sure her feet were still warming in the water. “Just call me next time, yeah? Let me know where you are. I was worried sick.”

“I will, I will. I’m so sorry.”

“And maybe wear better shoes.”

She couldn’t help but smile, leaning her head back to kiss him again. “I love you, Morgan.”

“I love you too, Bumblebee,” he mumbled into the skin of her forehead as they continued to cuddle on the couch.

They sat like that for a while in their own sort of makeshift bliss. The warmth of Morgan’s body provided Bee with some much-needed heat. Her body relaxed into his, and the feeling of his skin on hers, his lips grazing where they could, provided her with a feeling of security she didn’t know she could get from another person. It was wild, what he was able to make her feel by doing the simplest things – absolutely wild. She could stay like this forever. She _would_ stay like this forever.

“How did your interview go?” he asked softly, placing a light kiss on her temple.

_Oh yeah_. She’d had a job interview today. She’d done _a lot_ today. Early in the morning, she and Morgan met with the officer who had called her, Greg Campbell, at the morgue. She was asked if she wanted to see the body – she didn’t. She was asked if she wanted a funeral service – she didn’t. She was asked if she wanted to cremate the body – she did. She was asked if she would like to keep the remains – she didn’t. She was told the urn would be kept for two years in case she changed her mind – she knew she wouldn’t. It was all very methodical. There was no emotion involved in any of the decisions, because Sharon didn’t deserve an ounce of emotion from her. Morgan, just by virtue of being there while she had to make decisions about what to do with her mother’s remains, was supportive throughout the process. He had asked questions that Bee didn’t think about asking, mostly because she just wanted to get the whole thing over and done with. He had held her hand underneath the desk as they spoke to Greg about options. He had whispered to her, “You’re doing the right thing,” as they left, not having to think about Sharon ever again.

Then, he drove her to Scotia Plaza. She was nervous as she took the elevator up to one of the high floors, but she tried not to let it show, even as she waited for Mark Travers’s assistant to call her name to bring her into his office. The interview went well, she thought. Mark seemed happy to see her, and the array of questions he’d asked her felt more like a conversation rather than a formal interview. He asked her about a lot – her coursework, what she had learned, how she could apply it to her position, what she would do in certain situations, how she would handle certain portfolios – all the stuff necessary for the position. She asked about leadership opportunities and moving up the ladder. He asked her about salary expectations. At the end, he said he’d be in touch.

“It went well, I think,” she said. “Mark seemed impressed with my answers. At least by his facial expressions.”

“I bet you got it,” he kissed her temple again. “They’d be crazy not to hire you.”

“I don’t know. He mentioned other people were being interviewed too – a guy from the Montreal office, which is why they went there after the gala,” she explained. “I hope Dennis gave me a good reference. Fuck, I hope he remembered who I was. Guy can be a bit spaced out sometimes.”

Morgan chuckled slightly at her comment. “Like I said, they’d be crazy not to hire you. Who gives a fuck about some dude from Montreal. He’s probably a Habs fan.”

It was Bee’s turn to laugh. She leaned her head back to kiss him one more time before refocusing on the room around her. It was only then that she saw all the flower arrangements taking up space. She inhaled and the smell of them all overpowered her senses; she loved the smell of flowers, but so many of them in such a small space reminded her of what the viewing room smelled like when Angie’s grandfather had passed away. “You told everybody,” she said.

Morgan immediately knew what she was talking about. “Of course I did.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re our friends. And because even though they know about your mom, they can still feel empathy for what you’re going through right now.”

She let out a sigh. She knew Morgan would tell everybody – not because he had a big mouth, and not because he wanted to force attention on to her, but because he understood how much his teammates and their significant others had come to like Bee. If they _weren’t_ told, there would be a bigger problem on their hands. “It was really nice of them to send flowers,” she ruminated.

“It was.”

Another sigh. She had regained feeling in her feet by this point and wiggled her toes in the water. She’d had a long day. A very long day. And although the flowers were beautiful, and she appreciated that they were sent to her, she didn’t want to think about it right now. She wanted to cleanse herself of the emotional rollercoaster of a day she had. “I’m gonna take a shower.”

“A shower?”

She nodded her head. “I just want to…” she made some quick hand motions up and down her body, “you know…_cleanse_.”

“You want me to run you a bath, Bumblebee?”

She shook her head. “We still need…_I_ still need to make dinner. Just let me take this shower and then I’ll whip something up.”

When Bee finished her shower and emerged from the master washroom, hair in a bun and a pair of sweatpants and one of Morgan’s old t-shirts on, she found him in the kitchen, leaning over the countertop, typing something into his phone. When he saw her, he locked his phone and set it on the counter. “You want me to make you some grilled cheese?” he asked.

She couldn’t help but smile as she walked over to him and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. “You don’t have to, Mo. I don’t mind cooking.”

“But I know you’ve had a rough day,” he said, wrapping his arms around her waist. “And I know my culinary skills are, like, the equivalent of baking in an Easy Bake Oven, but I know my comfort food.”

Before Bee could respond, the buzzer sounded on the intercom system, meaning someone was calling them. They both looked at each other sceptically, giving each other a brief _‘Were you expecting anybody?’_ look. Morgan eventually picked up his phone, answering it via the app he downloaded for it. “Hello?”

“Let me in.”

Angie’s voice was loud and authoritative; Morgan even got a little bit intimidated. He had texted her earlier in the day to see if Bee was with her when he couldn’t get a hold of her. He’d sent a quick text to her while Bee was in the shower saying everything was fine. He wondered if he was reaping the rewards of that now. He automatically pressed the button to open the door for her.

“_Please_ tell me you didn’t text Angie,” Bee said.

“Of course I texted Angie,” Morgan said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s _Angie_.”

“Morgan.”

“I texted her like three hours ago! I just wanted to see if you were with her and that’s why you weren’t answering your phone,” he explained.

“She’s gonna fucking kill me. You know that, right?”

“I think I could take her,” he quipped.

“You don’t know Angie. Girl’s like a rabid raccoon looking for food when she’s angry.”

The door handle to Morgan’s apartment jiggled. He walked over to open it, and Angie burst through, taking no time to acknowledge him. “I tried to stop her. I swear,” Mason said from the doorway, his hands up in innocence.

“_You_,” Angie said firmly, directing her attention to Bee and Bee only as she set down the three grocery bags on the counter. “We want dinner.”

“What?” Bee asked.

“I bought garlic. I bought onions. There’s potatoes, chicken, carrots, and ground beef.”

“Angie --”

“They were on sale,” she continued talking, ignoring Morgan. “I have no fucking clue what I’d make with that. But I’m sure you have stuff you can add and you can make something good. So make us dinner.”

“Angie, really?” Mason worried.

“It’s okay,” Bee finally piped up, surveying the groceries in front of her. Morgan could tell the gears in her brain were shifting as she concocted something in her mind. “I got it. I’m gonna…I got it. I got it,” she nodded her head, grabbing the onions and a cutting board.

“Briony --” Morgan tried to interject.

“You guys get out of the kitchen,” she said, already resolved and in the zone. “Get out. I know what I’m making. Go watch TV or go talk.”

They all knew how much Bee didn’t like anybody else in the kitchen helping her, so they did as they were told. Instead, they moved flowers and rearranged them against the windowsill, set the table, and discussed anything and everything besides the events of that day. Morgan would look over to make sure she was okay as she slaved away in the kitchen, but Angie pretty much ignored her. Morgan wanted to intervene at points, but he knew Angie knew Bee better than anyone, and that what she was making Bee do was not only taking her mind off things, but also making her calmer. Besides reading, cooking was Bee’s favourite pastime. She didn’t see it as a chore and she didn’t see it as a gendered action; she genuinely enjoyed it and wanted to make other people happy with her cooking.

When all was said and done, Bee called everyone to the table and placed a perfectly made cottage pie in front of them, still piping hot from the oven. She scooped out portions onto everyone’s plate, and Morgan cracked open a bottle of wine to split between them. Mason took the first bite, forking some into his mouth before his eyes rolled towards the back of his head. “Fuck, Bee,” he moaned out, scooping up another bite automatically.

“Is it good?” she asked.

“Is that even a question?” Mason asked, his mouth full of pie.

A smile appeared on her face. Angie looked at her, smiling too.

Briony knew she was never going to get a happy ending to knowing about her mother’s life after she left her. She knew that despite the story being over between them, and that she was going to get closure somehow, it wasn’t a joyful closure that she could sleep with at night. She didn’t find out her mom had sobered up and began to work a job, however menial, to support herself; she didn’t find out her mom had actually been trying to look for her all these years; she didn’t find out Sharon made something of herself, however small, and kicked the alcohol once and for all. She was never going to get that. Ever. And she accepted that. She accepted her mother was still an alcoholic. She accepted her mother never went looking for her. But that was okay, because none of that mattered. What mattered most is that right now, she was sitting at a table with the three most important people in her life. The three people who loved her and supported her unconditionally, and who would do anything for her. Her mother didn’t factor into that equation in any way, dead or alive. And that was okay, because it meant she was free.

Briony was finally free.


	22. Chapter 21

Briony never got to give out Valentine’s Day cards at school because she could never afford them. She’d get them from her fellow students, decorated with superheroes or puppies or whatever else was popular at the time, usually with a heart-shaped chocolate or a Hershey’s Kiss, but she was never able to give any out. That was why, given the opportunity, she went out and bought really corny Valentine’s Day cards, the fold up ones that came in packs of 30, wrote one to Morgan for each day of his road trip, and hid them in his suitcase for the 13-day tour of Montreal, New York, Colorado, Las Vegas, Arizona, and St. Louis. Bee was a bit bummed that she wasn’t able to spend time with Morgan on their first Valentine’s Day together, but there wasn’t exactly anything she could do about it.

Instead, she was focused on the training she was completing for her new job. The day after her interview, Mark Travers had called her back. _“Can you come back to my office?”_ he had asked. Morgan was at morning practice, so she high-tailed it in an Uber. When she got there, he sat her down in the same chair she sat in for the interview. _“What are your salary expectations?” “There will be performance bonuses if you accept and do well.” “We’re not going with the candidate from Montreal. I would love for you to be part of our team.”_ It was all very surreal, and of course, she accepted the job. She was a junior financial analyst at Scotiabank. Her hard work paid off in the best way possible. Yes, she had a boyfriend, the best boyfriend in the world – but now, she had a job. She had a career. She had everything she had ever wanted.

Morgan was, of course, over the moon when she told him. So over the moon, in fact, that the Leafs won their next two games against Anaheim and Ottawa. She was able to go to both games after her training, just a short walk to the ACC from Scotia Plaza. He asked so many questions and was so interested in everything she would be doing. He was like a little kid in a candy store. He wouldn’t shut up about it. He told his teammates. He told the wives and girlfriends (as if she hadn’t already). He told Mike Babcock because, well, he just happened to be listening at the time. He told the Uber Eats delivery man when he dropped off their food that night, a celebratory feast on Indian food. He’d tell a park bench if it listened.

But, like always, then he had to leave. A thirteen day road trip for the team. He cursed the fact that after all these big events, he always had to leave, and they could never properly celebrate. They couldn’t even properly celebrate their first Valentine’s Day, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it. There wasn’t exactly anything _any_ of the other wives or girlfriends could do about it, so instead of wallowing in self-pity, Alannah had organized a “Galentine’s Day” night over at hers and Zach’s place. The boys were facing the Vegas Golden Knights tonight, and the girls could at least watch the game together while eating junk food and sipping on mimosas and mocktails rather than spend the night alone.

Until then, Bee found herself with Aryne, who was apparently feeling particularly stir-crazy. There was a week of paid training before Bee assumed her full responsibilities, and in the time, Aryne made it her personal goal to meet with Bee everyday for lunch so they could check out places to eat in the financial district. Today, they were at the Cactus Club, an import from western Canada that just opened a few blocks north of the Scotia Plaza. Aryne had ordered them both a tuna poke bowl and non-alcoholic Valentine’s Day-themed drinks.

They had been talking for a while, discussing who was going to be at Alannah’s place that night and what time Aryne would pick Bee up, when suddenly a shrill voice was heard from across the restaurant screaming, “_Ohmigod_, Aryne is that you?!” Aryne and Bee both looked to their left, and Bee saw a beach blonde running over to them with a giant smile on her face.

“Oh Lord,” Aryne mused under her breath as she smiled at the woman making a beeline.

“Who’s that?” Bee asked, but it was too late. The woman had approached their table and Aryne was smiling politely at her.

“So nice to see you here!” the woman said, bending down and giving Aryne a hug, who didn’t bother getting up from her seat. “I can’t believe I ran into you here of all places. What are you doing here?”

“I’m having lunch with my friend,” Aryne said. Why else would she be in a restaurant with another person sitting across from her? “Bee, this is Sydney. Sydney this is Bee McTa--”

“So _you’re_ Bee?” she said slyly, not bothering to offer her hand for a polite shake. “I’ve heard _so_ much about you.”

“From _who_?” Bee asked.

“From _Instagram_,” Whitney said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Bee got worried the second she mentioned it. She didn’t even know who this _Sydney_ was – why did she knew who Bee was? What had she seen on Instagram that made her feel like she already knew who Bee was? “I just _love_ that Chanel bag that Morgan got you.”

“What have you been up to, Sydney?” Aryne intervened the split second she saw Bee’s eyebrows furrow. “What brings you back to Toronto?”

“Well, I had my dress fitting at Kleinfeld today. Jessica had a working lunch so I thought I’d come to Cactus Club and see what the food’s like,” she explained. Bee had no idea who Jessica was and she wasn’t inclined in the slightest to ask.

“Jessica who? Mulroney?” Aryne asked.

“_Of course_, Aryne. Who else?” Sydney smiled. “Anyway, the second dress was already ordered in Southampton so we’re waiting for that to come in for alterations as well. Then there’s the veil and the flower wall and just, like, _so_ many other things.”

“Should’ve eloped,” Aryne winked.

“Boomer wouldn’t want that,” she giggled, turning her attention back to Bee. “You must know _my fiancé_ Matt? Or _my father_ Boomer Esiason?”

Bee didn’t understand. Did Sydney just ‘my father’ her a la Meghan McCain? Was she just name-dropping people in the hopes that Bee would recognize who she was? _Why_ would she _want_ anyone to recognize her? Bee shook her head. “I’m sorry, I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

“My fiancé is Matt Martin. He plays for the Islanders. He was on the Leafs last year,” her tone was light but she spoke in short sentences, talking to Bee like she was an idiot. “Do you not know about hockey?”

“Not a lot, actually,” Bee tried to keep her voice as cordial as possible. She could see Aryne trying to suppress a smirk. “I’m usually too busy with work to learn about other teams, so I just stick to the Leafs.”

“Oh…” Sydney was taken aback by Bee’s answer, by Bee’s lack of interest in who she was, in Bee’s lack of caring about anything to do with her.

“Bee’s a financial analyst with Scotiabank,” Aryne informed Sydney.

“And Morgan’s okay with that?”

A shiver ran up Bee’s spine. “Why wouldn’t he be okay with that?”

“Morgan earns more than enough money for the both of you. All the hockey players I know would love to have their girlfriends at home with them to help with the hockey schedule. You know how boys are so dependent,” she tried to turn it into a joke. “They can be so useless sometimes.”

Maybe _her_ boy was dependent, but Morgan could get by on his own. Bee didn’t like the insinuation that he was the only one that mattered in the relationship and that her needs took second place to his. That’s not the way she lived her life, _ever_, and that’s not the way she and Morgan acted in their relationship. “Morgan loves that I have my own career,” Bee said definitively, taking a sip of water to prevent her from saying anything else she might regret.

Sydney smiled politely. “Well, I won’t keep you two much longer,” she gave a half smile to Bee before focusing on Aryne. “Look for the invitation to come late May. It’s going to be in Southampton. We’ll provide hotel details.”

“Good luck with the rest of the planning,” Aryne smiled before Sydney walked away, readjusting a Prada bag on her shoulder. Aryne looked back at Bee and gave her a look. “Sorry about that. I thought we’d be safe here.”

“Is she always like that? Namedropping Jessicas and Boomers and who her husband is?” Bee asked.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Aryne rolled her eyes slightly. “Her dad was a pro football player and now she’s getting married to Matt. He played for the Islanders with John, then played in Toronto for two years, but now he’s back on the island. She’s really close with Steph.”

Bee tried not to roll her eyes. She didn’t like those types of people – those that would namedrop to get what they want or so they could let you know who they were. It actually _did_ say a lot about who they were, and to Bee, it wasn’t that good. She didn’t even like it when Morgan did it all those months ago at Cibo. “What did she mean she saw me on Instagram?” Bee asked.

“Well obviously we’ve been uploading pictures and stuff,” Aryne said, taking her phone out of her purse. “But then there’s like, the fanpages or whatever. She stalks them a bit to see what they say about her and Matt.”

“The_ what_?”

“The fanpages. You know, like the girls who somehow get a hold of our pictures and then post them on their accounts?” she phrased it as more of a question. When she saw the confused look on Bee’s face, she shook her head. “Oh come on Bee. You have to know about them.”

“I know about the girls who send me messages telling me I’m fat and Morgan’s my sugardaddy,” she said bluntly. Aryne knew about them too. They laughed about them together. “I don’t know about these so called fan-pages. How do they get the pictures if our profiles are private?”

“Oh, they find their ways,” Aryne typed something into her phone and swiped through a few screens. “It’s nothing horrible. They literally just post pictures. But…yeah. Here’s you,” she said, showing Bee her phone over the table.

Bee took Aryne’s phone in her hands and swiped through the post from @theladyleafsoftoronto: ten pictures stolen from her Instagram account, from Ashley’s Instagram, and even from Lucy’s private one somehow. Group shots of her with the girls. None of her and Morgan together, thankfully, because those were few and far in between. She had just posted her first one, series of photos of them together in Vancouver, after they got back from their trip. She’d cleared her Instagram like Angie told her to, and she hoped they wouldn’t get out.

“Check out at NHL wives and girlfriends,” Aryne said the name of another account before she stuffed her face with contents of her poke bowl. “Those girls should work for CSIS.”

Bee punched the handle into the search bar and immediately saw the account. She didn’t have to scroll far to see the two different posts, each with another series of photos and videos of her. _Twenty_ total. They had screengrabbed Instagram stories of her and Morgan kissing from Auston’s New Years Eve party and others, Boomerangs from Halloween in their costumes, and even went so far as to include one of the oldest pictures of herself she had posted to Instagram. They were crazy. And somehow – yup, of course, _of-fucking-course_ – the series of photos of her and Morgan together from Vancouver were on there. She didn’t even want to know how they got there.

“Wait…” Bee said as she noticed one specific picture. Their backs were to the camera and they were standing on the seawall on Kitsilano Beach, where Andy brought them when they landed in Vancouver. “That’s…that’s not…”

“What’s wrong?”

“One of these is _Shirley’s_ picture,” she said. “Shirley…she only posts to Facebook. You mean to tell me they stalk her Facebook?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Aryne shrugged her shoulders. “I told you. They should work for CSIS. They could get information on anyone. Hell, if you didn’t even have an online presence they’d _still _find you.”

It was at that point, staring at the candid picture Shirley had taken of them in Vancouver, that Bee realized there was nothing she or Morgan could do about it. Absolutely nothing. They could switch on every privacy button they could, they could refuse to post – none of it mattered. It would still end up somewhere. It would still end up on an Instagram profile with almost 10,000 followers and fifty comments on the post. It was completely out of their control.

So why bother?

“Jesus,” Bee shivered slightly, and it wasn’t because of the cold outside. She handed Aryne’s phone back to her. “I didn’t know…I mean, these girls must have a lot of time on their hands.”

“I know it’s a lot, but it’s not a big deal. It happens to us all. They all find it somehow. The more you come to just accept that it’s gonna happen, the less freaked out you get when it does happen,” Aryne explained. “The fact that you don’t care what they say helps, too. Yours and Morgan’s relationship is strong and you’re better than what they say about you. Other girls aren’t as strong as you.”

*

Bee had received a text with a picture of every Valentine Morgan found on his 13 day road trip followed by a heart and a message of “I can’t wait to see you”. Now that he was _finally_ on his way home, Bee sent him a text back: “I can’t wait to fuck you.”

She was restless. All she wanted was him with her, beneath her, above her, beside her, behind her – she didn’t fucking care at this point. She wanted touch him and to feel him so desperately she was willing to jump his bones the second he got in the door. Hell, she’d meet him down in the parking garage if it meant getting her hands on him. But with the last ounce of self-restraint she had, she put on her blush coloured baby doll lingerie set and waited for him on the bed.

Even as she heard the door open and shut, she stayed in her position. “Bumblebee?” Morgan called out, the sound of his bag hitting the floor loud in the quietness of the apartment.

“In here!”

She heard his footsteps make their way to the bedroom. When he opened the door, he was greeted with her, sitting on the bed on her knees in her lingerie. He stopped for a moment, taking in the scene before him. “Well well well…happy belated Valentine’s Day to me,” he hummed.

“Happy Valentine’s Day baby,” she smiled, noticing he had something in his hand. “What’s that?”

“Your valentines,” he said. “Wanted to give you a kiss for every one you left me, but it seems like you have other plans in mind,” he licked his lips. “I’ve never seen _this_ before.”

“I was keeping it a secret.”

“Oh _were_ you,” he sauntered over to her, making a come hither motion with his finger. She moved towards the edge of the bed where he was standing, slipping her arms around his neck. “I mean it. Thirteen kisses,” he mumbled, grabbing hold of the flesh at her hips before giving her the first kiss. “I love the pink,” he mumbled.

“I knew you would,” she said, biting his bottom lip. “God, I missed you so fucking much.”

“I missed you too, Briony. But I’m home now.”

She kissed him again, unable to wait any longer. They definitely gave each other more than thirteen kisses as they made out, but she wasn’t exactly complaining. Morgan’s hands on her flesh were intoxicating and all she wanted to feel. She wasted no time in ridding him of his clothes. He moved quickly to put the valentines on the dresser so he wouldn’t lose them.

“Lie on the bed,” she directed him when he came back.

“What?”

“I said _lie on the bed_,” she repeated as she made way for him to do just that.

“What are you --”

“Can you stop asking questions and just _lie on the bed_!” she giggled, pulling him down so he had no choice. Crawling in between his legs, she couldn’t help but smile as he put his hands behind his head to view her. She grabbed a pillow for him so he could use it in place of his hands. She needed his hands for this. “Did your cock miss me?”

“Mmmm, you have no idea,” he said, his voice low.

She helped him out of his boxer-briefs and scratched her nails teasingly down his thighs. When she finally grabbed hold of his cock, she smiled before kissing the head gently. Morgan bit down on his lip as he looked at her. “C’mon baby.”

“Nuh-uh,” she shook her head, a devilish smile on her face. “Nice and slow.”

He glared at her momentarily. “Excuse me?”

“Nice and slow,” she repeated, her eyes flashing with revenge. “I can tease too, you know.”

“What are you – wha…” he didn’t understand what she was trying to say, but then it hit him. This was payback. ‘Nice and slow’ was _payback_ for their little impromptu rendezvous before Auston’s New Year’s Eve party, where he’d teased her so achingly slow with his fingers. “Baby, _please_ \--”

“_No_,” she said definitively, licking the underside of his cock, but pulling away right after. “Nice. And. Slow.”

He let out an exasperated sigh. He knew he was going to pay for that one day.

True to word, miraculously, she worked on his cock slow and steady, making sure to take her time with the foreplay and use all of her tricks that she knew would drive him wild: the moaning, the dirty talk, even the simple act of catching his eye while his cock was in her mouth and rolling them to the back of her head in pleasure. His body felt like it was a thousand degrees as she worked her magic.

When she began to take him deeper into her mouth and throat, he made sure to gather her hair in his hand as he guided her up and down his shaft. Like always, his eyes rolled back when she would gag slightly, but because she was taking this all _nice and slow_, everything seemed heightened. She was thoroughly enjoying herself and taking her time, and by her actions he knew she wasn’t forcing herself to do anything she was uncomfortable doing.

“Feeling good, baby?” she asked quickly before taking him into her mouth again.

He grunted in appreciation, tightening his grip on her hair slightly. “You’re so fucking good.”

She moaned a little before she sucked him from base to tip, ending with a pop. “I wanna taste you baby.”

His breathing was hot and heavy. “W-What?” he stuttered out.

“I want you to cum down my throat baby. I want to taste you,” she cooed.

“_Fuuuuuuuck_,” he moaned out, but before he could say anything else, she took him deep in her throat quickly, gagging, and he actively had to think about something else to prevent him from exploding right then and there. He caught her eye as she looked up at him. “I won’t last long if you keep doing that.”

She giggled. “Good,” she said before continuing her actions.

True to his word, it wasn’t long before he began to lose control. He tightened his grip on her hair one last time before he rocked his hips so he could push himself even deeper into her throat. After one last moan and one last gag, she felt him shoot his hot load into her throat. His breathing was erratic, his sighs more high-pitched than normal, and Bee let out a satisfied sound as she swallowed every bit of him.

She continued sucking until she felt him get soft, ending with another pop and another devilish grin on her face. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Morgan.”

“Hap…Hap…” he tried to speak, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t even think straight. “I can’t…I can’t…” he repeated, worried, still on a high. He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t move, but he knew the night couldn’t end here. No way. He never wanted to _not_ make her come, especially for Valentine’s Day celebration, but after doing so himself, like _that_, he didn’t know how long he’d have to take to recuperate. Needless to say, he didn’t exactly want to wait either.

“C’mon Morgan,” she whispered, her voice breathy and low, her lips grazing against his ear.

His brain was fucking mush. He wasn’t even sure where he was to be honest. “I…I…” he tried to formulate a coherent thought, completely spent and still trying to catch his breath.

“C’mon baby. I’m all dressed up,” she taunted him.

He watched her as she slipped her hand underneath her panties and began to touch herself. He regained enough semblance of a conscience to realize he didn’t want _her_ to be doing that. _He_ wanted to be the one. “Stop,” he said as firmly as he could.

She did as she was told. She looked at him and a small smile crept onto her lips. “How do you want me?” she asked.

Just by the way she phrased it he was ready to explode again right then and there. “Get on your knees,” he said, and she followed instructions, lying back on her knees to face him. “Other way,” he directed, watching the surprise spread across her face as she did what she was told yet again.

Finally regaining enough consciousness, he got on his knees too, getting behind her so her back was flush with his chest. He wrapped his left arm around her slowly, making sure his fingers grazed her skin underneath the material of the babydoll. His right hand was already playing with the lacy material of her underwear. He kissed his way along her shoulder and up her neck until he got to her ear. “You trust me?” he asked.

Bee nodded her head. “I trust you.”

He gave her another tender kiss on her neck, his right hand already reaching over and slipping into the front of her panties to tease her hot core. She jumped at his touch, knowing what he was about to do. “I’m gonna start with one,” he whispered in her ear.

“Two.”

A shiver went up his spine. “Two?”

She nodded her head. “I want it so bad.”

He sighed contently, chuckling to himself at the desperation in her voice. He began teasing her with two fingers, playing with her slick folds and rubbing circles on her clit as he continued to kiss and bite the skin along her neck and shoulders, definitely leaving marks. He could feel her getting wetter with each passing moment and, lacking all self-control, he didn’t wait to push his fingers inside of her.

She moaned at the action, grinding her hips against his hand as much as possible. She snaked her hand along Morgan’s arm that wrapped around her body and intertwined her fingers with his. “_Fuck_, Mo.”

“Feel good?” he bit down on her neck.

Bee could only nod her head as he curled his fingers in her, hitting the spot that made her shake in pleasure. “Feels so fucking good,” she managed to breathe out.

His kisses were a mix of tender and hungry; his bites both loving and heated. He bit his way back up to her ear. “Are you gonna be a good girl for me Briony?” he asked.

She bit her lip and closed her eyes. “Yes.”

“Are you gonna take more?”

“Yes. _Yes_,” she said, desperate, grinding her hips again. “_Please_ Mo. I want _more_.”

He slipped another finger in, now three fingers deep in her. Bee shouted out slightly at the sensation, adjusting to the new feeling as much as she could before her body began reacting before her brain could. A warm shiver went up her spine and she leaned back into Morgan, his chest slick with sweat. “You okay?” he asked quickly.

“Go _harder_, Morgan.”

Was it possible to self-combust? Because between the blowjob and this, he was sure he was going to spontaneously self-combust right then and there on the bed. She knew just the right tone to use in her voice when she begged to drive him wild. “You’re fucking desperate, aren’t you?”

“_Please_ Morgan,” she begged again, bringing her free hand up to yank at his hair, pulling him so she could give him a sloppy kiss.

His fingers continued to curl inside her and she moaned out in pleasure. This time, he tightened the grip his arm had around her body, limiting her movement so she couldn’t grind against his hand as much. He knew how much she liked when he held her hips down while he ate her out, making sure the responsibility of her pleasure was in his hands the most, and he figured she’d enjoy it just as much in this situation too. A whine escaped her as she realized what he was doing; despite her best effort, she wasn’t able to grind down as much. “_Harder_,” she panted out.

Losing any semblance of restraint he had left, he began pumping his three fingers in and out of her quickly, much to her wish and indulgence. Her moans were loud and desperate, long and throaty, while, by some miracle, he was still rubbing against her clit and he was still kissing and biting down on the sensitive skin on her neck. It was all too much for her – the different sensations in different places – and her body became hot and she could feel her orgasm already building as Morgan continued to work. “Morgaaann,” she elongated his name, pleading with him to continue exactly what he was doing.

“You like that, huh,” he mumbled against her skin, making her nod her head. “You’re so fucking desperate for me to fuck you like this.”

“Morgan, _please_,” she didn’t know what else to say. She knew it was all she was saying but she could barely form a coherent thought. This was so unlike anything they’d ever done; although he had fingered her before, it was never like _this_. It was never this _hot_ and this _steamy_ and this _raw_. She was so close she felt like she was going to explode already. “I’m so close.”

“Then make a fucking mess, Briony.”

That’s it. She’s lost it. She cried out loudly, repeating his name over and over again as he curled his fingers in her one last time, making sure it lasted as long as it could as she collapsed against his body, her head leaning back onto his shoulder. Her legs felt like jelly and her hair stuck against his skin.

His fingers were still in her and her thighs were wet as he gave her a tender kiss. “You’re such a good girl for me. Always such a good girl,” he whispered.

“Again.”

He stopped momentarily. He wasn’t expecting to hear that. “What?”

“More. And _again_.”

The shock was written all over his face, but she couldn’t see because between not facing him and her eyes rolling to the back of her head, she couldn’t see much of anything. “I…you want more?” he clarified.

“Keep going,” she nodded her head. “I want _more_. Keep going until I can’t scream anymore.”

In a snap second he realized what she was asking him to do. “Are you sure?” he asked one more time.

“Positive. Go wild, baby.”

He practically growled at her request, tightening his grip around her once more and starting to move his fingers in and out of her again. “You gonna take it all like a good girl?”

“Like _your_ good girl.”

“Mmmmm, that’s right. You’re _my_ good girl,” he licked at her jawline. “You ready?”

Bee nodded her head. She whimpered when he curled his fingers and began pounding them into her even harder than before. She felt so warm and wet and the sounds they were making, the moaning and the screaming and the panting, the squelching of her wetness against his hands, it was all so hot and heavy and neither Morgan nor Bee could get enough. “Mooorrrrgaaannnnn, _fuck_ you’re so good baby,” she cried out.

“You want to come again, Briony? So desperate for me to make you come again?” he tormented her.

“Yes baby. Over and over.”

“Over and over till you can’t walk tomorrow.”

“_Yes!_” she screamed out, apparently loving the idea. “Yes baby. Because of you. Only you get to do this to my pussy.”

“You gonna make another mess?”

“Yes. _Yes_ Morgan. Always.”

“You gonna come for me?”

“Only for you baby,” she turned her head as much as possible to kiss him. “Don’t stop, baby. Keep going until I can’t fucking take it anymore.”

Morgan did just that. Over and over Bee cried out, losing control, screaming, panting, her body being shattered as waves of pleasure _continually_ washed over her, non-stop, especially after Morgan slipped a fourth finger into her, stretching her completely and filling her like she hadn’t been filled before. Her body felt like it was on fire as Morgan held her up in his arm, but the constant state of orgasm and the more overstimulation she felt, the more her body began to feel like it was going to collapse onto the bed at any given moment.

The longer they went, the more orgasms she had, and the longer they went, the more Morgan recovered and began to feel hard again. He didn’t even know how long they’d been going for, but because of the overstimulation, his non-stop movements, and the fact that Bee hadn’t been silent since they started, he also wasn’t truly sure how many orgasms she’d had. “How many?”

She didn’t answer at first. She _couldn’t_ answer. She was so wrecked she didn’t know words were a thing she could use. “How many, Briony?” Morgan repeated.

“I d’know,” she let out quickly.

“You wanted this baby. How many?” he demanded an answer from her.

“I don’t…I don’t know,” her moans were broken, her skin shining from the sweat. “It’s so much.” A rose flush had taken over her body. His fingers hadn’t stopped. She was too concentrated on the feeling; the feeling of pleasure but also the feeling of being completely lost to another person, her pleasure in his control, and feeling one hundred percent safe about it.

“C’mon baby, you can keep going,” he encouraged her.

“_Morgan_,” she cried out, so hot and so wet and so…so willing to keep going.

“C’mon, you can do it again, huh? Like a good girl? Like _my_ good girl?” His voice was soft instead of demanding, filled with love instead of forcing her to do something.

“Y…Yes,” she panted out. All she knew was that she was close, she was _so close_, but she wasn’t done yet. It was _a lot_, almost _too much_, definitely more than she had ever felt before, but she wanted to keep going.

“That’s my good girl,” Morgan cooed as he placed a kiss on her temple. “I’m almost ready, okay? But you’re being such a good girl.”

“Fuck me when you’re ready,” her voice was hoarse and strained.

“Don’t worry baby. I’ll fill you up like I always do. Stretch that pretty pussy how you like it.”

“Mmmmmmm _fuck_, keep going Morgan. Keep going,” she whimpered.

“C’mon baby, you can take it. You can take it,” Morgan hummed as he began moving his fingers inside her again. She was so sensitive that any movement sent her over the edge quickly. She cried out his name over and over, his fingers and her thighs absolutely fucking soaked, and it wasn’t long before he felt her walls clench around his fingers again, and _again_, and _again_.

Finally, _finally_, the arm keeping her up loosened, his hand going to his cock to stroke himself and get him as hard as he could. She immediately collapsed down, hitting the sheets as he teased at her entrance. It wasn’t long before he pulled her by her hair, slick with the sweat from their bodies, and brought her back to be flush with his chest. “Are you okay baby?” he asked. She barely nodded her head. “One more?”

She closed her eyes, another barely there nod. “I need your cock deep inside me.”

He entered her in one quick go, gasping at how fucking _wet_ she was and how fucking easy it was to slide in to her aching, hot pussy as she collapsed on the bed again, ass up in the air for him. He knew he wasn’t going to last long, his hard thrusts burying his cock deep inside of her. She screamed and moaned and whimpered over every movement, practically sobbing at the feeling of feeling completely and absolutely wrecked by Morgan. When she felt his hot cum squirt inside her, one last orgasm – after way too many to count – ripped through her body, sending her into one last rush of pleasure before Morgan collapsed on top of her body, cock softening inside her but refusing to pull out.

It was a long time before they came back down to earth. Bee’s heart was threatening beat right out of her chest, the overstimulation still running rampant through her, especially since Morgan’s cock was still inside her. She took some deep breaths to try and calm herself. When Morgan’s arm wrapped around her and he shifted their bodies slightly so he was spooning her, he placed tender kisses along her shoulder, now absolutely ravaged with red hickeys and bite marks, and she felt her heartbeat slow down a bit.

“You okay, baby?” he whispered.

At first, she could only nod her head. Her throat was so dry it hurt to speak. She wondered if she would have a voice tomorrow. “I’m okay.”

“You did so good baby. You were so good for me,” he cooed, giving her another tender kiss. “Always such a good girl.”

She couldn’t get enough of him calling her his good girl. She knew she was always good _for_ him, _to_ him, but he was good _to_ her and _for_ her, too. She twisted her body so she could somewhat see him yet still keep his cock inside her. She was absolutely spent, just absolutely _destroyed_, but she wanted to see the face of the man who made her feel this way; the face of the man who indulged her every want but always kept her needs in mind. “Thank you, baby,” she whispered. She wouldn’t have been confident doing this with anybody else, and for that, she was truly thankful. She could completely lose herself to him and know she would be safe. She knew he would explore this with her but always keep her in control.

“Thank _you_, baby,” he kissed her. “I love you so much. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No. No, you didn’t hurt me. It was better than what I wanted. I love you too.”

“You wanna clean u--”

“_No_,” Bee said as he began to move. Her desperate hand on his skin stopped his movements. She knew it probably wasn’t the best decision but she didn’t care. “I don’t care right now. Just stay here with me.”

Morgan nestled back into her, arm draping over her body as he pulled her close against his chest, their bodies still slick with sweat. She’d kill him once she realized what her shoulders and neck looked like, but for now, all he could do was kiss the skin peppered with love bites until they both drifted off to sleep.


	23. Chapter 22

Hockey Night in Canada was quickly becoming favourite night of the week, especially when the Leafs were playing at home. She had never been a hockey fan before Morgan, but now that she was – at least partly – she could feel the energy in Scotiabank Arena pulse through her veins. She could feel it outside on the streets, walking past fellow Torontonians going to watch the game at a bar, at a friend’s place, or anywhere else. She could even feel it within fellow fans, buzzing around the arena and getting close to the glass during open skate.

Tonight, in particular, was a big one – Leafs vs. Canadiens. Morgan had explained to her enough about the historic rivalry between the two teams, and even Aryne pitched in with a “Now they hate us even more because John wouldn’t grant them an interview.” The energy was palpable. And if Bee knew anything about Habs fans, it was that they were everywhere in Canada – even where you least expect it – and that they always travelled to support their team. Even tonight, in prime enemy territory, she spotted a lot of Habs jerseys. It was going to be a great Saturday night.

But right now, all she cared about were babies.

Briony loved babies. She loved them. And she loved one baby in particular: Henry Gardiner. He was the cutest, chubbiest, most perfect baby in all of Toronto and when any opportunity to hold or play with him came up, it excited her to no end. Bee wasn’t going to have babies anytime soon, so when the opportunity arose to do literally _anything_ with babies, she was the first to volunteer. So when Bee saw Lucy had brought him to the game wearing and a cute, custom-made onesie that looked like a Gardiner jersey with hockey pants, she was over the moon.

“He was being really fussy…_is_ being really fussy tonight,” Lucy said as she tried to bounce him in her arms.

“You want me to hold him for a bit? At least while we go down to the ice to say hi to dad?”

“Yeah, that could work,” Lucy agreed, handing her five-month-old over to Bee. “What do you think, Hank? Wanna stay with Auntie Bee?” she cooed.

Bee balanced his chubby body on her hip. He looked up at her with his big blue eyes and she almost melted right then and there. “Hi Henry! Are we gonna be best friends tonight? Are you gonna give Morgan a run for his money?”

“Henry you wanna go see Dada? Wanna go see Dada?” Lucy smiled as Henry smiled at the word ‘Dada’. Lucy slipped on his blue pair of baby headphones to protect his ears from all the noise before setting her diaper bag on the chair.

As the pair slowly made their way down the steps of the lower bowl, they eventually got to the glass in the corner, which was already surrounded by fans taking pictures of the team. They stood back for a while, watching the team skate and shoot pucks as Bee bounced Henry in her arms and pointed out all the players to him. He obviously couldn’t hear a thing, but he followed her points and let out happy noises the more she bounced him. Eventually, some fans noticed them and made way for them to go right against the glass. Bee held Henry close to the window, pointing at Jake.

Jake took a few more shots at the net before he saw them, quickly making his way over. Like clockwork, a cameraman and photographer appeared beside them and started snapping pictures of Henry and Jake smiling at each other. Bee thought it was out-of-this-world adorable, but also thought it was slightly awkward since she was neither Henry’s mom or Jake’s wife. “Maybe you should take him,” she giggled, handing back to Lucy with open arms.

“Yeah, let me hold him until they leave,” she agreed, bringing Henry a bit closer to the glass. Jake continued to smile and wave, and the fans around them practically awed in unison. Morgan came skating behind him, stopping briefly to wave at Henry and smile at what was transpiring. He pulled a silly face to try to get Henry to laugh. Instead, Henry looked at him, his little baby eyebrows furrowing, before he began to fuss and cry slightly. Jake hit Morgan and Morgan made a dramatic ‘oops’ face before winking quickly at Bee. She shook her head at him as he skated away.

“Ooookay, that’s enough of Dada and his friends,” Lucy said, trying to calm him down. “You want to go back to Auntie Bee? Seems like you liked when she held you,” she said, handing him back into Bee’s arms.

Like previously, Henry began to calm down as Bee held him and bounced him on her hip. Lucy began to thank the fans for making room for them, and as she did, Bee noticed a group of three young girls – they couldn’t have been older than 21 – recording them on their iPhones. Bee tried not to look their way or give them any mind, but when she overheard one of them say to the other, “_That’s_ Morgan Rielly’s girlfriend,” her breath couldn’t help but hitch in her throat.

“Let’s get back to our seats before the Zamboni comes out,” Lucy said, unaware of the girls filming. “Hank’s really scared of them and Jake’s still upset about it.”

As they made their way back to their seats, they saw Aryne and waved, Penny following close behind her. They nestled into their seats – Lucy near the aisle, then Bee, then Aryne, then Penny – as Bee turned Henry to face forward to look out onto the ice, bouncing him slightly on her knee.

“Are you girls ready for a shit show?” Penny asked. “I don’t know if you saw, but Max Domi has already been chirping a few of the boys.”

The girls rolled their eyes, but Bee had no idea who Max Domi was. “Who is Max Domi?”

Penny cringed. “Don’t ask.”

Aryne looked over at her. “Max is a player on the Habs. His dad Tie used to play for Toronto from the mid-nineties to the mid-2000s,” she explained. Bee was so grateful that Aryne and the other girls were still patient enough to explain things to her. “He just crawls under people’s skin. He likes to play dirty. And ever since he got traded to Montreal and became a Hab, he’s been shitting on Toronto – literally the city he grew up in – every chance he gets.”

Bee furrowed her brows. “So you’re telling me he’s a dumbass.”

The girls burst out into laughter at Bee’s deadpan delivery. “Exactly,” Penny snorted.

“If he so much as touches one of our guys tonight I’ll go down there and fight him myself,” Lucy warned. “I haven’t slept in two days and I’m surviving on cereal and smoothies. I’m a ball of rage.”

Henry seemed content to stay on Bee’s lap during the first period, despite the constant grimacing, flailing of arms, screaming, and general scowling from the ladies. By the end of the period, the Leafs were down 3-0, and Bee got the gift of seeing first-hand what kind of a player Max Domi was. Though he hadn’t scored any of the goals, he was being an asshole, completely targeting Freddie and riling up Johnsson – of course, the referees called nothing. Bee knew she always had to be mad at the referees.

As Lucy left with Henry to change his diaper, Bee spent the intermission on her phone catching up on the day’s news events. She was pretty busy at work these days, and throughout all the meetings Mark liked to spontaneously plan and the working lunches they’d have, she wasn’t able to catch up on anything during the day like she used to be able to when she was in-between classes. She was nervous for the second period too – a lot of the fans that had made their way out into the concourse were grumbling about the lacklustre period and 3-0 score.

“The boys better make a comeback,” Aryne said almost to herself. “I’m not putting up with any gloating Hab fans, and I’m _sure_ as hell not putting up with a gloating Max Domi.”

Bee snorted at Aryne’s words as she opened Instagram, scrolling through her feed and liking pictures. She had made it private back when Angie called her in Vancouver, but that didn’t stop people from somehow stealing her pictures – like Aryne showed her on Valentine’s Day – or stop them from trying to tag her in videos or send her DMs. The tags were relentless – every picture someone stole from her profile, they’d tag her in it again, as if they _wanted_ her to see that they stole it. And now, there were more tags to sift through. The girls who had recorded them at the glass had of course already uploaded the video to Instagram, and it was making the rounds. She was tagged four times from four different accounts. She watched the video, and obviously it was cute because of Henry, but the girls were in prime position to catch Morgan winking at her before skating away. _Perfect_ position. She could only imagine what people were saying about it, and she didn’t want to read the comments. Instead, she went to her Instagram DMs to clear her inbox.

_So what, are you Lucy’s BFF now or something?_

_LMAOOOO now ur trying to get mo to have a baby with u U R PATHETIC!!!_

_R u pregnant_

_I know it’s your man’s jersey and all but it’s really doing your body no favours. Have you gained weight?_

“Whatcha reeeeading?” Penny asked.

Bee sighed dramatically. “Well Penny, apparently I’m forcing Morgan to have a baby with me,” her voice was deadpan.

Penny snorted at the delivery. “Oh how I just _love_ Instagram DMs,” she giggled, shaking her head. “Don’t worry, I’m only with Will for his money.”

“Oh, of course! Morgan’s my sugar daddy!” Bee exclaimed, causing Penny to laugh even more. “These girls see one video and think I’m pregnant. It’s so weird,” she focused back on her phone.

_Maybe Lucy should give you some yoga lessons so you can lose some weight. She looks better than you do and she’s had a baby._

_I told u we’d find pics of u and mo. You’re not sneaky._

_You guys looked really cute in Vancouver!!!!! Can’t believe you met his parents already does that mean you’re getting married?????_

_You and Mo are rly cute_

_You’d look better with a nose job and some upper lip filler. Just saying._

How kind of them to suggest a nose job and lip fillers. Like women around the world weren’t already insecure with themselves. She deleted everything, not bothering to read anymore. She deleted the list of them until she heard a crying baby, bringing her back to reality and what really mattered. When she finally looked up, she saw Lucy coming back with a crying Henry, and more fans filing back into the arena for the start of the second period.

“He is being _so incredibly fussy_ it’s driving me insane,” Lucy’s voice was exasperated as she sat back into her seat. “The entire time he was wailing. Just wouldn’t stop crying.”

“Awww, come here my chubby prince,” Bee cooed as she took Henry from a tired Lucy’s arms. “You gotta let mommy rest. Why’re you being so fussy?”

It took a few moments, but he eventually stopped crying and settled down, again looking up at Bee with his big blue eyes. He even gave her a smile and giggled at her smiling down at him. Lucy put her hands up in dramatic frustration. “You’re like the baby whisperer tonight! Seriously!” she exclaimed in astonishment. “I can’t believe this!” She even took out her phone to snap a quick picture of Henry smiling up at Bee, and Bee smiling down at him. “You’re stuck with him the whole night if he’s going to be like _this_ with you.”

“I’ll hold him the whole game if I have to,” Bee smiled. “I’m not joking. You want me to rock him to sleep? Tuck him into bed? I’ll do it.”

“Don’t tempt me. I might take you up on your offer.”

As the second period started, Lucy fetched Henry’s bottle from her bag, and Bee fed him. Auston scored early in the period, with Morgan getting the primary assist, and Bee hoped that the goal was a kick in the ass for the whole team to start scoring. When Tyler scored a powerplay goal near the end of the period, she was confident they would come back. And as always, Max Domi was being a pest, but because the boys were answering back, he didn’t have that much to say.

Then Willy scored in the third period to tie it and Penny went crazy. Henry fell asleep and was snug in his carrier when Zach tied it and _everybody_ in the arena went crazy. Then the Habs got upset. Four unanswered goals. On the jumbotron, they showed Morgan and Max going back and forth, chirping one another with a body in between them, holding them apart. _God_, Bee hated fighting, but if Morgan had slapped the smirk off Max’s face, she would have had no problem riding him across the Pacific Ocean. She even fanned herself as the girls pointed it out to her and had a laugh about it. A fifth goal by Johnsson, getting his payback on Max. A sixth goal by Zach, again. _Six_ unanswered goals. One hell of a comeback. Sweet sweet revenge.

_This_ is the hockey Bee could get used to.

As fans began leaving the arena after the 6-3 win, the ladies took their own way to the locker rooms. In the elevator, Bee took out her phone and saw she was tagged in yet another photo – but this one she would definitely keep.

@lucygardiner_: _Henry loves his Aunt Bee! <3 Uncle Morgan has to work on his funny face game though…_

It was the photo she had taken earlier of Henry looking up at her smiling. With both of them smiling and the sea of blue jerseys behind them, it _did_ make for a very cute picture. Bee liked it immediately and decided to comment.

_@brionymctavish: Heart eyes for my chubby prince! Uncle Mo’s baby blues ain’t got nothing on Henry’s_

*

“Listen, I know you have work tomorrow but can I please come over? I don’t want to watch this alone.”

Thus began the night of February 28th, the dreaded day – the day John Tavares returned to Long Island. The media had been hyping the return for days, and truth be told, Bee thought they were making a bigger deal than what needed to be made. They kept stressing the fan reaction, the videos they posted online of them burning John’s jerseys, which was absolutely ridiculous. They kept asking John annoying questions about it, and they kept asking players on the Islanders annoying questions about it. Bee wished it could all just end, but they needed to get through the game first.

Aryne showed up to Bee’s apartment with takeout Greek food. They didn’t even bother setting it up in the dining table – they just took their spots on the floor and spread everything out on the coffee table in front of the TV. Coverage was already on, and the guys on Sportsnet were blabbering on about _something_. Judging by the time, Bee knew the boys would be on the ice soon for the pre-game skate. She didn’t need to wonder what the reception for John would be since she was being told for an entire fucking week that it “wasn’t gonna be good”.

“Are you looking for places?” Aryne asked as she sat down on a pillow, looking at Bee’s laptop screen of apartment listings.

“Oh. Yeah,” Bee nodded her head. “I can’t live off of Naz and Ashley forever.”

“It’s not like they’re going bankrupt,” Aryne quipped.

“Yeah, but I’m earning decent money now. They can at least get the income back from leasing out this place,” she shrugged her shoulders, wanting to drop the subject. “Have you talked to John?”

Aryne nodded her head, opening the takeout container to reveal her gyro. “He’s fine. At least he seems to be. He’s seen some of his old teammates already and they caught up, which was nice.”

“That’s good,” Bee offered gently. “Does it feel weird for him being back there?”

“I don’t think so,” Aryne said. “I mean…he spent nearly ten years of his life there.” She looked at the TV and they both noticed the teams making their way on to the ice. The camera was focused solely on the Leafs. “Can you turn it up?” she asked.

The more Bee turned up the volume, the more boos could be heard. The arena wasn’t even at full capacity but they were deafening. Between keeping the focus on John, the camera also panned to people and signs in the crowd. People who had taped up their Tavares jerseys and re-wrote ‘Traitor’; people who made a sign saying ‘We don’t need you’; people standing and booing and giving the middle finger with one hand while a beer was in another. It was gross.

“How could they be so awful,” Bee said more so to herself than to Aryne. Seeing person after person with toy snakes and throwing them on to the ice was not funny. It was not amusing. This was a person that was their captain, and here they were disrespecting him and treating him like shit when he did so much for their team. Bee looked over at Aryne, who didn’t seem to blink as she watched the clown show in front of her. “We can change the channel if you want.”

“No,” Aryne answered. As much as it pained her to watch, she couldn’t. “I promised John I’d watch the whole thing no matter how bad the fans were. I’m watching it for _him_, not for them.” She worded it perfectly. This wasn’t about them, no matter how much they wanted to make it about them. Aryne knew that. Bee knew that.

They watched in silence as John made his way back to the tunnel. All of the sudden, something flew across the TV screen heading towards John’s head, narrowly missing him, making both women gasp in fear. They held their breath as the replay occurred, Bee’s hands over her mouth. “It’s a jersey. It’s a jersey,” she said quickly, noticing the colours on the object being thrown. The distinct blue and orange couldn’t be mistaken for anything else.

When she looked over at Aryne, she could see tears welling in her eyes. “Aryne…Aryne it’s okay,” she said, crawling over to her side of the table before giving her a quick hug. “It didn’t even hit him. The guy missed. It didn’t hit him.”

“Why do they _hate_ him so much?” she asked, her voice shaky as she continued to look at the screen. “He was the backbone of that team for _years_. He moved there _alone_ when he was _eighteen_ years old to play for them and _this_ is how they repay him?”

“Aryne, they’re being dumb. They’ve been amped up by the media and this is just theatrics,” Bee tried to calm her down.

“I don’t get it,” she shook her head. “You just…you spend nine years of your life somewhere, building your life and career, and they just turn on you at the drop of a hat…just because you want to go _home_. Just because you want to play for your childhood team. Because you want to be close to your family and _start_ a family of your own,” she lamented. “My God. I don’t even know why I’m crying. This…this is definitely pregnancy hormones,” she was embarrassed as she wiped away the tears.

“It’s okay to be emotional about this Aryne,” Bee said softly, rubbing her back.

“He’s just so _happy_ to be home, Bee. Why can’t they see that?”

“They’re blinded by their anger, but that’s not _your_ problem,” Bee said. “He was a UFA Aryne. What was he supposed to do? Stop playing hockey just to make them happy? Play somewhere he wasn’t truly happy? Play for his childhood team when he only had a half a tank of gas left? That’s not far to him and his goals. Even if hockey wasn’t a part of it at all. He made the best decision for himself and for you both and they don’t _want_ to see that.”

Aryne didn’t say anything. She wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks before laying her head on Bee’s shoulder. After a while of silence, she finally said in a soft voice, “I think the reason I like you so much is because you just…you see things outside of hockey. Sometimes I forget what it’s like.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You just have this perspective the rest of us don’t have,” she said without elaborating. “Never lose it, okay?”

The boys played like shit. They didn’t show up for one of the biggest games of the season – there was no other way to put it. They let John down. After Zach opened the scoring and got another goal taken away (because of the “offside” rule, which Bee still thought was a completely made up call), the team was sucker-punched to a 6-1 loss. It was brutal. Every time John touched the puck, the crowd booed so loudly it almost drowned out the announcers. Bee hated it. She never wanted to experience another game like this again.

This was not the hockey she wanted to get used to.

“Are you sure you don’t want to just crash here tonight? You must be exhausted,” Bee asked as Aryne was packed up to leave, taking most of her uneaten gyro with her.

“I’ll be okay, don’t worry. At this time of night the drive is nothing. Plus, John will probably call and want to talk,” she explained, putting her Styrofoam container into a plastic bag.

Bee kept ruminating over what Aryne had said to her earlier. _‘You see things outside of hockey. You have this perspective the rest of us don’t have.’_ She wondered what Aryne meant by that. She knew it wasn’t super invested in hockey. She knew that Morgan had only ever played for the Leafs and he had never switched teams, been a UFA, signed an offer sheet, demanded a trade, any of that. She knew she was only getting one perspective, especially since Morgan wanted to stay a Leaf forever. Despite being from Vancouver, they were his childhood team. His dad fist-pumped on camera when the Leafs drafted him. Aryne had been through so much more than she had, yet she was the one telling Bee _‘You have this perspective the rest of us don’t have’_. “Hey Aryne…” she began, unsure if she should bring it up.

“Mhmm?”

“You know…you know before…before the game started. How you said I see things outside of hockey and that I have a perspective the rest of you guys don’t have? What did you mean by that?”

Aryne stood still. “I didn’t offend you did I?”

Bee shook her head vehemently. “No no. Not at all. I just want to know what you meant. I’m wracking my brain trying to figure it out.”

“Do you promise not to hate me if I explain it?”

“I could never hate you. The only reason I could hate you is for telling me who Max Domi is.”

Aryne smiled before getting more serious. “A lot has happened to you this year, with the break-in and with your mom dying. A lot has happened to you _in your life_. And somehow, you’re still…it never seems to phase you. And…I don’t know. It brings me back down to earth a little bit. When I get stressed over John or hockey or whatever else, I just think about all you’ve been through and how you’ve overcome it all with such grace and a good head on your shoulders and I just think ‘Man, this girl’s got it all figured out.’”

“I don’t have it all figured out,” Bee shook her head. “Far from it.”

Aryne bit her lip. “Listen, you just prioritize the right stuff in your life. You prioritize yourself, your relationship with Mo, your job…not a lot of girls your age that we know can say the same thing. That’s why Sydney reacted the way she did when you mentioned having a career and the fact that Morgan liked you having one. A lot of people lose sight of what is supposed to matter and all they end up caring about is their boyfriend or their wedding or how they look on Instagram. But despite all this new stuff around you, all this money and all this privilege, you’ve never lost sight of what truly matters. Even the way you brush off all the DMs you get on Instagram. And I don’t want to patronize you and tell you I’m proud of you, even though I am, and I’m not saying that you’re a saint, but it makes me think about the priorities in my life,” she absent-mindedly put a hand over her baby bump. “Hockey is there but it’s John’s priority more than it is mine. I care about my husband, my family, our _growing_ family, our friends who are like our family. And in the grand scheme of things, stuff like what happened tonight…it doesn’t matter. _You get that_. Somehow, without having been involved in hockey for years or without being involved in the wag lifestyle that so many girls think is an absolute dream when it’s really not…you get that.”

“I don’t know what to say Aryne.”

Aryne shrugged her shoulders. “I just think we can all learn a little from you, that’s all. Remember where our real priorities are. Because it’s not with the Chanel bags, or the gala events, or the mingling with Toronto socialites, or the Instagram feed showing off your new lip fillers and the picture perfect way your boyfriend has proposed. It’s with each other.”


	24. Chapter 23

Morgan got home in the middle of the night, technically in the morning of Sunday, March 10th, after a west coast road trip that saw him open the scoring in both Vancouver (which they lost in OT), and Edmonton (which they won 3-2). After a whirlwind trip of celebrating his birthday early with his family in Vancouver, celebrating with the team on Friday night, then winning the game Saturday night, he barely remembered walking through his apartment door and climbing into bed to fall asleep.

It was no wonder, then, that when he began to feel something rubbing against his thigh, he was unsure of what it was. Perhaps it was a dream, perhaps it was his own thoughts playing tricks on him, like they had so many times before when he was away from Bee’s warm body and had to settle for the cold bed in a nice hotel. But when the friction didn’t stop, giving way to a certain wetness on his thigh, somehow Morgan’s brain clicked. It took him a long time to wake up in the mornings, but his girlfriend trying to get off on his thigh would definitely wake him up.

“Briony?” he mumbled groggily, his voice sounding like gravel.

“Are y’awake?” her voice was equally as groggy and tired as his. Morgan came to the quick, half-woken conclusion that the grinding was almost subliminal on her part, which made this whole situation even better. She was grinding against his thigh and she didn’t even know. _She didn’t even know_. Was she doing it subconsciously? Had she thought about doing it before and never brought it up? And that’s why she was doing it _now_?

“What’re you doing, baby?” he asked as she continued her movements lazily. “Are you trying to ride my thigh?”

She whimpered loudly as he verbalized what she was doing, trying to get even closer to him. “It feels so good. I just wanna…I’m so…”

He pushed the covers off their bodies lazily so they bunched up just below his knees. On instinct, it seemed, he moved on to his back and Bee followed him, straddling the thigh she was rubbing on. She continued grinding against it, her unkempt hair falling over her face and shoulders. It was then that he noticed what she was wearing: an old Leafs t-shirt of his – like, _super_ old, from back in his first years where he wasn’t built like a fridge – that was tight against her body, her breasts stretching the chest and her nipples perky through the material. She’d worn his clothes before and he had always found it a turn on, but for some reason, the way she looked now, with her hair everywhere and the tightness of the shirt and the lip biting as she grinded down on his thigh, he didn’t think she’d ever looked hotter in one of his t-shirts.

“You’re wearing my shirt,” he said, his hands trailing underneath the cotton slightly.

“Yeah,” she answered absent-mindedly, clearly focused on _far_ better things, her hips moving smoothly like waves.

“Cause you missed me?”

She nodded her head, guiding her eyes to look down at him. He could feel his thigh getting wetter. He wondered how long it had been going on for before he’d woken up. “I missed having your body next to mine as I slept. I wanted something that reminded me of you.”

“Did it?”

She nodded her head again. “It smelled like your old cologne. Like pine,” she put her hands on his chest as leverage so she could continue rocking herself back and forth. “So it reminded me of that night after the Marleau’s Christmas party. So I started touching myself.”

He groaned at her in response. As if her actions weren’t getting him hard, now the thought of that night was definitely helping. “Oh yeah?”

She bit her lip. “I started to think about you eating me out. You pulling my hair,” she slapped away his hand that tried to start rubbing at her clit. “I started to think about you spanking me. Being your good girl.”

“Fuuuuck,” he moaned at the memory.

“I couldn’t help myself,” she mewled out. She was using that tone she knew drove him crazy. “And then I came but it’s not the same as when you bury your cock inside of me. Or when you eat my pussy because you love it _so_ much.”

“_Get up here_,” he growled, unable to wait any longer as he grabbed hold of her hips and shoved her towards him and over his face. He knew because of how long it took him to wake up there was no way he’d be hard enough yet, but if that meant he got to do what he loved to do _so_ much, then so be it.

He wasted no time in burying his face in her pussy, lapping at her lips and sucking at her clit lazily, making her moan out loudly and tug on his hair. The sensation of waking up by rubbing herself against his thigh and then letting him eat her out as she sat on his face was something she could _definitely_ get used to. “Mooorrrrgggaaaannn…it feels s’good,” she breathed out.

He brought his arms up and laid them flat on her thighs, keeping her down so she had no choice but to grind on his face. His hands snaked themselves under the material of her t-shirt to caress her breasts, squeezing and pinching at her nipples, garnering more moans from her as she brought her own hands towards her chest and placed them over Morgan’s.

“Taste good, baby?” she asked, her voice still laced with sleep.

“Tastes so sweet,” he mumbled against her. “Always so sweet. Just for me.”

He kept going for so long she was sure he was going to get lockjaw, or, like, lack of oxygen to his brain. She didn’t know how long he was down there for, but because this was morning sex, the kind of sex where the both of them liked to take their time, liked to be lazy with their movements, liked to be slow about everything, she figured it had been a while. Her body felt so hot, flush with pink everywhere, and she stripped off her top, throwing it across the room. She proceeded to look back to check if Morgan was hard, only to see that he was practically throbbing. She bent backwards slightly, stretching her arm back to grab his cock and pump it a few times. “Baby…baby I wanna ride you.”

He mumbled something into her pussy and she had no clue what he said, but the vibrations of the sound against her clit sent it throbbing. “What?”

“I want you to come first,” he said more clearly.

“Mo…” she tried to bargain, placing her hands on his arms that were still holdings her hips down to try to pry them away. It was _his_ birthday after all; _he_ was the one supposed to be getting spoiled here. “Mo…c’mon. I wanna ride your cock.”

“You need to come first,” he repeated, not giving an inch. Who was she kidding? This was Morgan. If she didn’t come he’d see it as a complete failure. Even on his fucking _birthday_. “Come all over my face, then you can ride me. C’mon baby.”

There was no point in fighting him; none at all. So Bee grabbed at his hair again and grinded hard onto his face and soon enough, she was a screaming, wailing mess, soaking his face as he lapped up her juices hungrily, her orgasm ravaging her whole body as it made her shake.

“Mmm, sweet like honey,” he mumbled as he finally let up, letting his arms that were holding her down free.

Bee moved down his body and grabbed hold of his cock, teasing him as she rubbed it against her entrance. She bent down and kissed his face, tasting herself on his lips as she finally lowered herself on to him, stretching her completely. They both let out groans as he bottomed out. “Oooooh _fuck_, baby,” Bee sighed as she revelled in the feeling. It _never_ got old. It could be thirteen days, it could be three days, it could be three hours – it didn’t matter. “Fuck baby, I love your cock so fucking much.”

“Yeah?”

“I love how you fill me up,” she moaned as she began to rock back and forth slowly. “Nobody fills me up like you do. Only your big cock.”

“Babyyyyy,” he groaned, grabbing at the flesh on her hips. “Fuuuck, baby, keep riding me. That feel good?”

“Feels so fucking good,” she bit her lip, putting her hands on his chest again as leverage.

“That’s a good girl,” he said, guiding her back and forth with his big hands. “You like being a good girl for me?” he asked, to which she nodded her head. He pulled her down so her chest was flush with his and he began pumping into her, making her cry out in pleasure. That didn’t last long until he flipped them so they were on their sides in a spooning position, Bee wrapped in his arms with her leg hooked over his – much how they started the morning, except now he was buried deep in her, and she was crying out his name instead of subconsciously grinding her wet pussy against his thigh.

They stayed in that position for a while, kissing each other, Morgan squeezing Bee’s breast, Bee running her nails down Morgan’s back, gazing into each other’s eyes every so often. When he dipped a hand in between their bodies to rub at her clit and saw Bee bite her lip, he gave her a loving kiss before staring at her again. “I love you, Briony.”

“I love you too, Morgan.”

“I love you so much baby. You’re my world,” he meant every word.

“I love you more than anything,” Bee said back.

Bee felt him explode in her, filling her with his hot cum as her walls clenched around him, her body shaking again from yet another orgasm. His hand continued to rub circles against her clit until she reached down to stop him. When he felt himself become soft, he pulled out of her slowly, only to have Bee whimper at the loss. He immediately replaced it with his hand, playing softly with her lips and letting his fingers bathe in the wetness.

They kissed each other a few times before Bee smiled. “Happy birthday baby.” she whispered.

*

After showering and dancing and singing around the kitchen to 80s music while Bee made chocolate chip pancakes, bacon, and fruit salad for brunch, they finally settled down to eat. If any day was a cheat day, it was definitely your birthday, and Morgan’s eyes rolled back as he took his first bite of chocolate chip pancakes. They rolled even further back when he devoured his first strip of bacon, fried perfectly to the chewiness yet crispiness that he loved. He hadn’t had a bacon strip in _months_ because of “You should have a hockey season diet, Mo” and “Get lean to get mean, Mo” and “Have John’s kale and turkey scramble instead of a bacon cheeseburger, Mo”. Who the fuck eats a kale and turkey scramble as a cheat meal? Not Morgan. John was a psychopath that way.

“So what are we doing today?” Bee asked as she sliced a triangle out of her stack of pancakes. She’d already told them, when they were planning what to do, that it was all up to him. He got to choose; she’d willingly participate. He had a few weeks to think about it.

“Can’t I just eat you out all day?” Morgan asked slyly.

Bee kicked him underneath the table. “It’s your _birthday!_ You’re a quarter of a century old!”

“Thank you for the polite reminder. Not like I don’t feel old already.”

“There must be _something_ you want to do? _Outside_?” she stressed, giggling slightly. “You know, like in the streets of Toronto? Not in a bed?”

Morgan pulled a face, pretending to think hard, even bringing his hand up to his chin facetiously. He shook his head quickly. “Nah. Just be in bed with you eating you out.”

“You’re so gross,” she giggled.

“Do you want me to _not_?” he asked mischievously.

“_Don’t_ spin this!” she exclaimed, giggling as she pointed her finger at him. “Come on, Morgan. Is there a coffee shop you want to check out? A new store? We can even go get ice cream and I won’t complain about getting ice cream in the cold.”

“You know…” he began, taking a small strawberry and popping it into his mouth. “There is a coffee shop I want to check out. And it’s down the street from a place that apparently makes the best churros in the city.”

“Well then, we’re going,” Bee said definitively. “We’ll head out when we’re done cleaning up and you can have as many churros as your heart desires.”

“Until I get heartburn?”

“Until you get heartburn,” she nodded her head.

After finishing their brunch and loading the plates into the dishwasher, Bee disappeared into the bedroom to “fix her hair” while Morgan put on his shoes. Except she wasn’t fixing her hair – she was getting his present. That was the one thing Morgan actually _didn’t_ want – “No presents. I mean it. I don’t want anything.” – but she didn’t listen to him. Why would she? He was twenty-five; a quarter century; a milestone birthday. And it was the first birthday they were spending together. She had to get him _something_. She’d be a bad girlfriend if she didn’t.

When he heard her close the bedroom door, he finished typing up his desert boot. It was only -1°C outside – it wasn’t too cold. “You ready, Bumblebee?” he called out.

“Almost,” she called back and she scurried towards him. “Just need you to do one thing first.”

He looked towards her to see her carrying three beautifully wrapped gifts. He immediately started shaking his head. “No.”

“Morgan.”

“No. I told you no gifts.”

“_Morgan_!”

“Bring them back. Return them.”

“I can’t return them now can you please open them!” she said all in one breath, giggling slightly. “Come on, Morgan,” she said, holding them steady in her arms as she straddled his lap. “Come on.”

She let go of them, letting them all fall in the space between their bodies. His hands were immediately on her thighs, and he didn’t move them. “Why’d you do this?” he whispered, leaning into her.

“Because it’s your _birthday_,” she pecked at his lips quickly. He sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to win, so he looked down at the three gifts and picked up one of them. “No, you have to start with this one first,” she said quietly, picking up the one that was falling out of their laps. He laughed at the fact that she ordered them.

As he tore open the wrapping paper, he was giving her a look and a smirk she knew all too well. Throwing the wrapping paper to the side, he tore off the last bit before it revealed a book, Fredrik Backman’s _Beartown_. He smiled at her, because _of course_ she’d get him a book. “It’s about small town hockey in Sweden,” she said. “But there’s, like, this whole scandal. You’re going to love it. Trust me.”

“I trust you,” he said, leaning in to kiss her. “Thank you Bumblebee.”

“Now this one,” she said, handing him the second gift.

It was a bigger box, almost perfectly square. He tore off the wrapping paper slowly to make sure he didn’t drop it, and when the last bit of paper was torn off, he read the packaging. _Make your own mojito! The one kit to perfect mojitos!_

“You’re joking,” he deadpanned, unable to hold in his laughter. Bee started laughing as well as he continued to stare at the box. “Make your own mojito? _Really_?”

“Hey, this all started because you sent a mojito to my table,” she winked.

He flailed his arms dramatically. “I’m not even gonna…” he said, shaking his head. He could deny it until he was blue in the face and she’d still maintain he sent the drink. “You’re a saucy little minx, Briony McTavish. We both hate mojitos. You especially.”

“Maybe if we start making them ourselves we might actually like them,” she offered, unable to keep the smile off her face.

“Well, thank you,” he shook his head, leaning forward to kiss her again. He looked down at the lone gift left. “Is this the last one? Or is there a whole drawer I don’t know about somewhere in my own damn apartment?”

“This is the last one,” she smiled. “The best one,” she handed it to him. He began to tear it open, and as it became more revealed, the more he slowed down to fully take it in. Once all the wrapping paper was off, he got a good look at it, and his breath caught in his throat.

She’d gone out and bought a matte white beveled edge picture frame – thick, about two inches wide – and had painted it. A bumblebee flew along a dotted line on the top part of the frame, and around the other three sides along the dotted line were mountains, trees, a beach, and a whale fin coming out of water. Everything they had experienced in Vancouver together. The delicately decorated frame held a picture Bee took of them as they sat on the boat and watched the sunrise. In it, Morgan had his arm around her as she cuddled into his chest. On his other side, Maggie sat staring straight at the camera, tongue out with the classic golden lab smile on her face. The sun illuminated their faces and eyes, and the colours of the sunrise could be seen in the background.

Morgan started crying. They were quiet tears, ones that escaped and fell down his cheek quickly, but once one went, the others wanted to follow. He tried bringing his hand up quickly to wipe them away, but it was no use. He couldn’t take his eyes off the picture, and the more he looked at it, the more he cried. It was a double-edged sword.

“Hey…hey,” Bee said gently as his cheeks flushed red and more tears began escaping. “Baby…” she cooed, bringing her hands up to his face to help him wipe them away. “You okay? Do you like it?”

He could only nod his head. He still couldn’t take his eyes off the photo. He found something new every second he looked at it: the richness of the green of Bee’s eyes in the morning light; how windswept his blonde hair looked; how the blanket was peeking through right at the bottom of the picture. It was perhaps the most perfect few hours of his life, and now he had it immortalized, partly, in picture. With a frame decorated by the love of his life. It automatically became his most prized possession. No $8000 watch or custom tailored suit came close. Nothing meant more to him than this.

“I love it,” he said, his voice quivering as he finally tore his eyes away from the picture to look at her. “I love it so much.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s perfect. God, _you’re_ perfect,” he said, leaning in again to kiss her for a third time. This one lasted much longer, its tenderness too strong for them to break apart quickly. Unlike the other gifts, he didn’t place this one to his side; he leaned it against his chest, near his heart, as he brought up both hands to cradle her face. “I love you so much Briony.”

“I love you too, Morgan.”

“You have no idea,” he continued, his voice still quivering. “I meant what I said this morning. You’re my world.”

“I meant what I said too. I love you more than anything. It’s like you put the stars in my night sky, Morgan. And suddenly it isn’t so dark anymore. Everything is so bright.”

He kissed her again, slow and tender and smooth, wrapping his arms around her to pull her close. Right now, he didn’t want to go anywhere. Right now, he wanted to stay in the solitude of his apartment, with his girlfriend in his arms, and not think about the world.

*

_OMG, you guys are SO. CUTE._

_Should you really be eating churros? Are you really that dumb? You need to LOSE weight, not gain it sweetie._

_U GUYS R GOALS OMG ILY SO MUCH CUTEST COUPLE ON THE LEAFS_

_Okay…y’all are adorable._

_You’re still not as pretty as Cassie. You’re insecure about it and it shows._

_Can’t believe Mo finally posted something with you two. Did you force him bc you’re so insecure? Or was he finally let off from his leash?_

_GO GET THAT BIRTHDAY DICK GIRL._

Bee got the flurry of messages, including the last one from Aryne, as she was in the washroom brushing her hair. What in the world were they talking about? What did they mean? When she unlocked her phone, she went straight to her Instagram profile, thinking somebody might have hacked her. Everything seemed normal; nothing out of the ordinary. Everything was still private. So what was it? She went to Morgan’s profile and saw that he had posted stories. Three. The first was a picture of the churro place they had gone to. The second was a picture of the coffee shop they went to afterwards. She was in the picture, her back towards the camera, in line to put in their orders. Unless these girls were private detectives, there was no way anybody could tell it was her. But the third picture was the jackpot: a picture that Morgan had taken of her while they were sitting on the bar seats at the window. She had the ceramic coffee cup at her lips, her eyes smiling for the camera. Near the bottom of the picture, their hands were resting, clasped together. The caption “Happy birthday to me” adorned on the side.

He’d posted it. He’d actually posted it.

“Morgan?!” she screamed, opening the door to the washroom to try and find him in the apartment. She didn’t have to look long – he was right there in the bedroom, standing in front of the plush chair he usually threw his clothes on, looking down at his own phone. “You posted it,” she said as more of a statement than a question, not understanding why, after all this time of not wanting to reveal anything and wanting to be so secretive, going so far as to arrive at a team event at separate times _in the same taxi_, he’d just post a story with a picture _like that_ to Instagram for his 137,000 followers to see.

“We’re both in a gift giving mood today,” he said.

“Morgan.”

“Listen, this is…this is a gift to myself, really. The gift of honesty. Of knowing when I was wrong and accepting that and moving forward,” he explained, putting his phone on his armoire. She couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. “I know you want me to…that you’ve _wanted_ me to for a long time. And I was very protective and very hostile to the idea and I want to apologize for that. It’s just…I’m _in_ _this_, Briony. For the long run. I don’t want you _ever_ thinking I’m not. And there’s no use in hiding it anymore.”

She couldn’t believe it. She honestly couldn’t believe it. She had no words for what he had just said, for his change of mind and what he said at the end – “I’m _in this_.” She was speechless. Utterly speechless. So she did the only thing she thought of doing, the only thing she _could_ do when words escaped her: she dashed over to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed him, big and long and meaningful and all-encompassing, hoping that would suffice in showing him what words couldn’t.

“I love you Bumblebee,” he mumbled against her lips, his hands wandering underneath the material of her shirt to grab at her hips.

“I love you too Morgan,” she said, giving the tip of his nose a quick peck. “Thank you.”

“Can I show you how much I love you?”

She smiled at his request. She bit her lip and trailed her hands along his shoulders to his chest. “Not unless I get to first,” she said, pushing him down on the chair. She looked down to see him grinning like a kid in a candy store. She hooked her fingers into the lace of her underwear, turned around, and pulled them down slowly, bending over. She heard Morgan move in the chair, leaning in to grab her ass. She turned around and pushed him back into the chair, not wanting him to get too far ahead of himself. “You just sit back and relax, baby,” she said, not wasting any time in straddling his lap.

“I’m the luckiest guy in the world,” he whispered, squeezing her thighs. “I get this body _all_ to myself. _All_ these thighs, _all_ these hips…”

“Maybe you should unwrap me and get _all_ the rest,” she winked.

He chuckled from deep in his throat. “Don’t mind if I do,” he whispered, snaking his hands underneath her shirt and pushing it until it was over her head. He discarded it quickly to the side, revelling in the way her boobs looked in her bra. It wasn’t even lingerie – just a simple black bra – but he licked his lips as he did an up-down of her body. “You know, I can never decide which part of you is my favourite.”

“No?”

“Nuh-uh,” he shook his head. “Every damn inch of you is fucking delectable.” He immediately dove in to her breasts, pushing the material of her bra aside as he kissed and licked and took a nipple into his mouth. Bee threw her head back in pleasure, working to unbuckle his pants. When she was successful, she shoved them far down enough to expose his thighs, Morgan lifting his hips and wiggling out of them to help her out, before she brought her hand down and began stroking him.

“You liked it this morning when I rode on your cock?” she asked.

He grunted in response but didn’t stop with the sucking and playing with her breasts. “I liked feeling your wet pussy on my thigh,” he said quickly, licking the skin in between before focusing his attention on the other breast. “It was so fucking hot.”

Her eyebrows arched in response and she moved to straddle his thigh again. The positioning was slightly awkward, but they made it work, and when Morgan realized what she was doing, his eyes went wide. “You’re gonna fucking kill me,” he warned.

She said nothing. Instead, she maintained eye contact with him as she brought her hand up and shoved two of her fingers inside his mouth to get them wet. He sucked on them and when she was satisfied, Morgan’s eyes followed her fingers as they went down and played with her clit briefly before she started rubbing herself against his thigh again. He shook his head slightly in disbelief. “Look at you go, baby,” he said as he watched her move against him. “I want you to make yourself cum on my thigh like a good girl.”

She nodded her head. “Yes Mr. Rielly,” she breathed out.

Those three words increased his heart rate tenfold. A smirk appeared on his face as he heard them; like music to his ears. “Mmm, are we gonna start with that again, princess?”

“I want to be a good girl for you Mr. Rielly,” she said.

“You already are,” he kissed her tenderly before unhooking the back of her bra and discarding it to the side. “Keep going baby. Keep going ‘til you scream my name.”

He buried his face in her breasts again as she continued to gyrate against his thigh. When he felt her arm come up so her fingers could rub at her clit, it was him who smacked the hand away this time, like she’d done to him that morning, and she realized he wanted her to go long and hard against him before she finally came. So she arched her back, brought her body and her breasts closer to him, and played with the hair at the nape of his neck.

Bee continued her movements for a while, feeling herself getting hotter and wetter with every minute. Eventually, she yanked at Morgan’s hair, pulling him away from her breasts so she could give him a sloppy, wet kiss. She repeated his name over and over as she continued to ride his thigh, and she felt herself beginning to climax. “_Fuuu-u-u-ck_ Morgan,” she felt a wave of pleasure wash through her.

“That’s a good girl. Keep riding my thigh. Keep going,” he ordered, placing his hands on her thighs to guide them back and forth. “It’s so fucking hot, Briony.”

She rode out the orgasm as much as she could, slowing her movements and eventually leaning into his chest. She could feel his heart beating quickly as she tried to get her breath back. Eventually, she looked up at him and giggled. “I can’t believe I just got off on your thigh,” she whispered.

He moved his hand down to feel how wet she was, bringing up his fingers to his mouth to taste her, showing her just how hot he thought it was. She moved off his thigh, stood between his legs, and turned around. “Wh…where are you going?” he asked.

“Don’t worry baby. I told you to sit back and relax,” she smiled over her shoulder, reaching behind her to grab his cock in her hands.

“Baby…”

“Shhh…” she said, lowering herself down slowly onto him.

She heard him gasp at the feeling, no doubt also appreciating the view he was currently getting of her hair cascading down her back and his cock disappearing into her. “Fuck, baby.”

“You like that, Mr. Rielly?”

He threw his head back as he bottomed out. “I fucking _love_ it, baby,” he said as he grabbed her hips. She began moving up and down slowly, placing her hands on his thighs to balance herself, and Morgan couldn’t help but watch as his cock appeared and disappeared in her. “I love the way you look when my cock is in you…the way you moan my name when I fill you up…”

She looked back at him over her shoulder, tossing her hair in the process. She bit her lip as her nails dug into the skin of his thighs. “Will you spank me, Mr. Rielly?”

He didn’t hesitate. His hand let go of her hip and he smacked her ass, garnering a loud whimper from her. He did it again, harder, a louder shout escaping from her. “I love it when you spank me Mr. Rielly,” she cried out, increasing her rhythm. He did so again, on the opposite side, and she whipped her hair back. “So fucking good.”

He gathered most of her hair in his hand and pulled her body towards his so her back was flush with his chest. Instead of her controlling the rhythm now, it was him. He snaked his arms around to spread her legs wide with his and play with her bouncing breasts, caressing them and pinching her nipples. He left a trail of kisses along her shoulder and neck before she twisted her head to kiss him. “Does it feel good getting fucked like that?”

“Yes.”

“Louder.”

“Yes!” she sighed out.

“I think good girls can scream louder than that.”

“YES!” she cried out. “It feels so good when you fuck me. I can never get enough.”

“Go get on the bed,” he instructed.

She hesitated. “But I want--”

He spanked the side of her ass hard. “C’mon Briony. Be a good girl and go lie on the bed.”

“But I want your cock in me Mr. Rielly,” she mewled out desperately. “I want it so bad. I _need_ it so bad.”

He gave her another spank, garnering another yelp. He could feel her walls clench around his cock at the sensation. “Go lie on your back like a good girl, Briony. By my good girl.”

She had no choice but to comply as he gently pushed her body off of his. She crawled onto the bed, giving him quite the view again, and she looked over her shoulder to make sure he was following. She turned over onto her back. He climbed onto the bed and wasted no time getting in between her legs, wrapping them around his body and guiding his throbbing cock into her with ease. He kissed her passionately, many times, unable to get enough. He knew it wasn’t elaborate, or filthy, or kinky in any way, but sometimes, simplicity was all he needed. Was all _they_ needed. 

“I love you Briony,” he whispered as he looked her in the eye.

“I love you too,” she kissed him quickly. “I love being your good girl Morgan. Always.”

He smiled. For all the ‘Mr. Rielly’ she said before, he knew she meant it when she said his first name. She trusted him. She liked everything that they were doing, everything that they did – _genuinely_ enjoyed it. He felt himself getting close and increased his speed. “I love your warm pussy baby.”

“C’mon baby, fill me up. I’ve been your good girl and I want you to fill me up.”

A few more thrusts and he was done for, filling her up as her pussy clenched around him again. He buried his face in her neck as his cock twitched inside her, lowering his body onto hers slowly. When he felt himself get soft, he slipped out of her. She wrapped her arms around him, dragging her nails lazily up and down his back. “Happy birthday baby,” she whispered, giving him a kiss on his cheek.

“Hmm,” he smiled lazily. “Happy birthday to me.”

After a few moments of silence, Morgan could hear Bee snort. He propped himself up so he could look at her face. “I had a whole lingerie set planned and I didn’t even get to put it on.”

He chuckled, resting back in his previous position, his face in the crook of her neck, giving her a soft kiss. “Save it for round two.”


	25. Chapter 24

Everybody was in an awful mood. The Leafs had played like shit against Tampa Bay, and it left everybody with a bad taste in their mouth. It was almost like they hadn’t even tried; nobody had shown up to play that night. Despite Auston and Connor scoring, nobody even entertained the possibility of a comeback. The boys were getting shown why Tampa was in first place by a mile and they knew that.

Briony watched Morgan give a post-game interview from the warmth of his apartment, after having gone to work that day. He had called her and said he’d liked if she came over. She didn’t protest. She was staying the night more and more lately, unable to deny him – she even had outfits for work and casual clothes hanging in his closet just in case. Angie said, “That probably means he wants you to move in with him,” and Ashley said, “The only way you’re ever moving out of our apartment is if you’re moving in with Morgan instead,” and Bee didn’t know what to think. She’d stopped her apartment search momentarily because Ashley found out and told her that, and they had a talk about it, and Bee said _“What if I even just start paying you $500 a month”_ and Ashley absolutely refused and Bee gave up. She had a personal rule, if you will, that she wouldn’t even consider moving in with a guy until _at least_ a year into the relationship. But she and Morgan had been through a lot together. He was there for her during the break-in. He was there for her when her mom died. She had already met his family.

And, well…Morgan was Morgan. He made her re-think a lot of things about herself.

At the beginning of the relationship, she’d wanted to take things slow and not put a label on it. Now, she couldn’t imagine why she’d been so dumb. There was no reason for her – for them – to take it slow, because they were in a spot now she could only dream of being in at this point in her life. Comfortable. Loving. Supportive. Loyal. Encouraging. Ready to take on the world together. She _never_ defined herself based on another person. With Bee, it was always me, myself, and I, because that’s how it had been most of her life. But now, her outlook changed. Her priorities changed. Her life changed. With another person by her side, _completely_ by her side, encouraging her to do all these amazing things and go for anything and everything she wanted, she couldn’t help but feel less like her life was about herself and more that her life was about _them_. _Together_. _Two_ people, not one person, growing together and experiencing life.

She wanted that. _Oh lord_, did she want that. And she didn’t want that with anybody else besides Morgan.

From the kitchen counter, her phone began to ring. She got off the couch slowly, tired from the long workday, and saw that Angie was calling her. Knowing how much Angie liked to be in bed by 9:30 on a work night, Bee thought it was weird she was calling. “Shouldn’t you be asleep already, you old hag?” Bee used the words Angie called herself.

“Are you on Twitter right now?” her voice was frantic.

“What? No. Why would I be?”

“Bee – I – there’s this video --”

“-- what video?”

“-- of the game tonight. Someone’s accusing Morgan of yelling something homophobic to a referee.”

“_What_?!” Bee couldn’t believe what she just heard.

“It’s all over Twitter, Bee,” Angie said. Bee looked back towards the TV, only to see Morgan’s interview had ended and the panel back on. Did they mention it in the interview? Did they ask about it? “They’re saying he called the referee the f-word.”

“_WHAT_?!” Bee exclaimed, her heart dropping into the pit of her stomach. “Morgan would _never_ \--”

“_I know_, Bee, but they caught _something_ being said on a TV microphone. I don’t even – I don’t even know if it’s _him_, but a TV mic caught something and --”

“Angie, he would _never_ – he would _never_ \--”

“Bee?” she heard Mason’s voice call her name, making her realize she was on speakerphone. “Bee, NHL public relations sent out a tweet saying they’re investigating.”

She ran towards her laptop and opened Twitter in a new tab, finding the tweet almost immediately. _The NHL is aware of reports that a homophobic slur was used during the Maple Leafs-Lightning game. The League is investigating the incident and will have no further comment until this investigation is completed._ Bee felt sick to her stomach. “There was no way it was Morgan. _None_. He c-c-couldn’t – he w-wouldn’t –”

“The Leafs PR sent out a tweet too,” Mason continued. “Is Morgan home yet?”

“No. I’m gonna call him right--” she said, only to hear the door unlocking and see Morgan walk through the door. She immediately hung up the phone on Angie and Mason and saw the dejected look on his face.

He barely looked up at her, feeling like complete shit because of how the game turned out. “Can we just go to bed, please? I want this day to end, like, immediately.”

“Morgan --” Bee tried to say, but she was cut off harshly by the sound of his ringtone.

Morgan rolled his eyes as he looked down at his phone. She saw his eyebrows furrow at the name running across the screen. He swiped to answer. “Kyle?”

Bee stood stoic as she tried to study the look on Morgan’s face, even though he kept his head down. She obviously couldn’t hear what Kyle Dubas was saying on the other end but the longer Morgan was on the phone, the more his eyebrows furrowed. Then, suddenly, his head shot up, and Bee could see a look of shock mixed with fear on his face. “They’re saying I said _what_?” he said out loud, and her stomach twisted into knots. “Kyle – I didn’t – I would _never_ – okay, okay. Yeah. I’ll be right over,” he said, hanging up. He looked towards Bee, fear taking over the shock. She saw his chest starting to heave from breathing heavily. “Briony, I didn’t – I didn’t do it.”

“I know Morgan,” she said, running over to him.

“I didn’t do it. I didn’t do it,” he kept repeating.

“_I know_ baby. I know you didn’t.”

“Why are they saying – what – why are they? Why are they saying I did?” he stuttered out, unable to form a coherent thought. “I didn’t say that word _at all_.”

“I know you didn’t, Morgan. And I know you _wouldn’t_. What did Kyle say?”

“I have – I have to go back to the arena,” he looked around him like he didn’t know where the door was.

“Okay. Let me grab my stuff and we’ll go,” she assured him, grabbing her coat from the closet near the door.

“Briony – I – you have to work tomorrow,” he said.

“So?”

“You can’t miss – I don’t want you to--”

“Shut it Morgan,” she said, slipping on a pair of boots. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly. “Let’s go.”

The drive over was eerily quiet. Morgan tried to focus on the streets and the drive but his mind kept wandering to the accusations. The video. What everybody thought he said. What he _didn’t_ say. God, he hadn’t even checked his phone since he got in the car to _come home_ – God knows how many DMs he’d gotten. God knows how many people were tagging him in tweets. He felt sick to his stomach that _anybody_ would think he’d said a word like that.

They took the usual route into Scotiabank Arena, except Morgan pushed a different elevator button to take them to the offices rather than the clubs and family floor. Bee hadn’t let go of his hand since they got out of the car. She squeezed it to get his attention and he looked down at her. “It’s all going to be okay,” she said softly.

His eyes were already red. He shook his head in disbelief that this was even happening in the first place. “I didn’t say it.”

“I know. And that’s why it’s going to be okay,” she assured him. “If they’re investigating they’re going to find out you didn’t say it and it’s going to be okay.”

“Briony…” he shook his head. “I can’t…I can’t deal with this. I would never say something like that,” he kept repeating the sentiment, because it was all he could think.

As the elevator doors opened, Bee saw Brendan Shanahan, Kyle Dubas, and another man standing together. Brendan had his suit jacket off, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and Kyle looked pretty much the same. When they looked over to the elevator, they stopped discussing whatever they were talking about. “Hi Morgan,” Brendan said.

“Mr. Shanahan, I didn’t say it,” he said, his voice desperate as he stepped out of the elevator. “I would never use that language sir. There’s no way – Steve, I approached you asking to be able to march in the Pride Parade in June --”

“It’s alright Morgan, it’s alright,” Brendan assured him, extending his arm as he smiled briefly at the two of them. “Let’s go into Kyle’s office, okay? Have you seen the video?”

“No. I had just walked in the door – and then Kyle called…and Briony --” he gestured to her, “I think she might have seen it on Twi--”

“Morgan, it’s going to be okay. Don’t worry,” Kyle assured him as he pat his shoulder. “C’mon, let’s go into my office.”

As they sat down on the plush chairs in Kyle’s office, he opened his laptop screen and put his phone down on his desk. Bee assumed he was waiting for a phone call from someone – whether that was going to come through to the office phone or his cell phone she had no idea. She shifted her chair so she was closer to Morgan, rubbing his back gently to calm him down. The third man that Bee didn’t recognize was tapping away on his phone. “Have you checked your social media portals yet?” he asked Morgan. Morgan shook his head. He looked at Briony. “Have you, Ms. McTavish?”

Brendan must have picked up on the shocked look on her face – this random man knowing who she was but her not knowing who he was – and interjected briefly. “Briony, this is Steve Keogh. He’s the head of public relations for the Maple Leafs.”

“Oh. Um, no, I haven’t,” she said, setting her phone on the table. “I mean…I – I’ve been contacted before on Instagram and Twitter. Mostly Instagram though.”

“What do you mean contacted?”

“Like, people have sent me DMs – or they’ve tried to now that my profile is private – and, um, that’s where a lot of them try to contact me…you know, once people started to find out Morgan and I were together.” She was totally word-vomiting and she knew it, but she didn’t understand why _her_ social media portals would matter in all of this.

“Do you mind if I check your Instagram?” he asked.

She couldn’t exactly say no, so she unlocked her phone and went to her DM requests so Steve could see them. “You stupid fat bitch,” he read out the message. Kyle’s and Brendan’s eyes immediately went wide; Brendan even started to shake his head. “You and your homophobe boyfriend are the fucking worst I hope you both fucking burn in hell,” he swiped out of the message screen and onto the next one. “You and your boyfriend are both disgusting pieces of shit. I bet you caused this. You’re so disgusting and the way you are creating drama in Morgan’s life is gross and you should be ashamed of yourself,” he continued.

“Please stop reading,” Morgan snarled, visibly upset.

“You’re a fat ass c…oh no, I’m not saying that word out loud,” Steve’s eyes went wide now.

“It’s nothing I haven’t heard before, don’t worry,” Bee quipped.

Brendan looked at her flabbergasted. He turned to Steve. “Is it what I think it is?”

“You’re a fat ass…see you next Tuesday,” Steve cringed. Brendan shook his head. “I’m not reading any more of these,” Steve put down her phone. “If hers sound like this you can imagine his.”

“Okay, we’re going to talk about this calmly and rationally,” Kyle said, taking charge and looking directly at Morgan. He swivelled his laptop so Morgan could watch the video in question. He let it loop a few times – at least three – shaking his head the entire time. Kyle eventually stopped the video and turned his laptop back to face him. “Tell me what happened. _Everything_.”

Bee listened as Morgan recounted the play in question. He talked about the hooking call he thought the referee should have called, but didn’t, which was clearly visible in the video because of his hand motions. When the referee didn’t call it, he obviously got upset. He probably swore, yeah. Dropped an F-bomb. Anybody would when it could have been a five-on-three near the end of the period. But he _never_ said that word. _Never_. The referee was close to him. He would have heard it. He would have called something on him if he did, or thrown Morgan out of the game, but he _didn’t_. Then Tampa had scored shorthanded, making it 5-1. And he was angry. He was fucking livid. But he never used the word in question. Never. Kyle kept asking questions. So did Brendan and Steve. _“But what was said, Morgan?” “Are you absolutely sure you didn’t say it?” “Could you have said it in the heat of the moment?” “You’re positive, Morgan?”_ He was positive. Positive. Unequivocal. He didn’t say it. Not when he was angry, not in the heat of the moment. Never. He never said it.

Then the office phone rang loudly, interrupting their conversation. “That’s Colin calling,” Kyle said, lifting the receiver and pressing a button. Bee could only imagine that was someone important. “Hello Mr. Campbell. Kyle here. I have Brendan and Steve and Morgan here. You’re on speaker.”

Colin asked for the audio recordings from the various microphones that were around the ice for TV purposes. Kyle mentioned they already sent them. Colin thanked them, apparently not realizing they were already sent. Then he asked to speak to Brendan. Bee took the opportunity to grab Morgan’s hand under the desk, to try to get him to look at her so she could tell him everything was going to be okay, but he was too preoccupied with the phone conversation to even notice. She kept her hand there, stroking the back of his hand with her thumb, but he didn’t notice. Steve was back on his phone. Kyle stayed quiet while Brendan spoke to Colin Campbell.

By the time the phone call had ended, Steve had been waiting to show everyone something on his phone for a while. Bee noticed that it was 11pm. Morgan was stiff as Brendan hung up the phone. “Somebody’s got a slowed down recording,” he said. “These Twitter people. They’re trying to analyze it. This guy who uploaded the slowed down video said_ ‘_After giving it a long listen, I am convinced that Rielly did not say "Fucking F-word on the ice, and what was heard was two separate voices: One that says “Fuck” and another that says “Rag it”. I believe the first to be Rielly’s and the second from someone from the TB bench.”

Brendan whipped his head towards Morgan. “Is that true?”

“It could be true,” he said. “I mean, I swore. And judging by the play somebody from the bench could have definitely been telling him to rag the puck to kill the penalty.”

Steve played the video loudly for everyone to hear. For Bee, it was clear as day. There were two different voices. The second one didn’t even _sound_ like Morgan _at all_. It didn’t have his slightly nasally Canadian twang, none of it. “It’s two people,” Brendan mumbled to himself as they listened to the video over and over again. “It’s two people. It’s two voices.”

“The microphones will pick up on that, hopefully,” Steve added.

“I didn’t say it,” Morgan whispered, voice full of dejection and desolation at the events unfolding. He brought his hand up to rub at his lips, and Bee swore she could see his eyes well with tears. “_I didn’t fucking_ _say it_.”

“Morgan, it’s okay. The microphone recording will show it was two different people,” Brendan assured him.

The phone rang again. Kyle wasted no time in answering it. “We’re still here Colin,” he said.

“Okay, this is what’s going to happen,” this Colin Campbell said on the other end. “I’ve got Brad Meier here. We’re going to interview him, and after we’re done interviewing him we’re going to interview Morgan. So once we’re done with Brad, we’re going to call you back and you can come next door and we’ll interview Morgan.”

_They were next-fucking-door?!_ Bee looked at everyone, and they were nodding their heads. “Alright Colin, sounds good. We’ll be in my office waiting so just call back when you’re ready for Morgan.” Colin hung up without another word, and Kyle looked at Morgan. “I’m going to get a recording of your statement. Just in case.”

And so he recorded a statement for Kyle, recounting practically every second of the play. And then, like clockwork, Colin called back and asked Morgan to go over. So he did, and Bee was left with Kyle and Brendan and Steve, and they asked her what she did, and where she went to school, and how she was liking Scotiabank, and joked that maybe one of them should send their investment portfolio her way so they could make more money, and she tried to laugh, but all she could think about was Morgan being interrogated and adamantly denying every saying that word. Then Steve gave her some tips for social media – the gist being to ignore it, which she was already doing – and she thanked him, and Kyle and Brendan assured her everything would be okay, and she thanked them. She knew they were trying to get her mind off things. She appreciated it. But she just wanted to see Morgan. She wanted to hold his hand. She wanted to tell him everything was going to be okay.

It was 12:30 in the morning when Morgan finally appeared back in Kyle’s office, and again, like clockwork, Colin called and said they had everything they needed and that they’d be in contact. When? Who knew. But they’d be in contact. Tomorrow morning? Tomorrow afternoon? Were they going to review the material now? Tomorrow? They’d be in contact.

Kyle patted Morgan on the back. “Go get some sleep, alright? We’ll talk about it in the morning. You need to rest.”

_That_ was going to be impossible. All Morgan did was nod his head and they said their goodbyes and by the time he and Bee got back to his place, it was almost 1am, and she knew he wasn’t going to sleep. There was no way. He plopped himself down on the couch and put his head in his hands, and Bee wrapped her arms around him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Everything is going to be okay, Morgan.”

That’s when it happened. He finally broke down. After holding it together for so long at the arena and through the interview, his emotions and fatigue got the best of him as tears streamed down his face. His body even began to shake from the stress of it all and Bee tried to squeeze him tighter to make it stop, but it was no use. “I didn’t say it,” he managed to get out. “Why does everyone think I did? I swore, _that’s it_. I didn’t say that word.”

“I know baby, I know,” she cooed, running her fingers through his hair in an attempt to calm him. “You can’t look at what everybody is saying. You know what you said and you know what you didn’t.”

“But _why_? _Why_ does everybody think I said it?”

“Shhhhhh,” she cooed as she brought a hand up to caress his cheek. “They’re going to find that you didn’t. Don’t worry. All the evidence is there for them.”

Before he could say anything else, her phone rang. When she pulled it out of her pocket, she saw Shirley’s name flash across the screen. “Baby, your mom is calling.”

Morgan’s eyes went wide. “Fuck, I haven’t even checked my phone,” he said, wiping his eyes quickly. He grabbed Bee’s phone from her and picked up. “Mum…mum I didn’t say it. _I didn’t say it_.”

Bee listened to the conversation, Morgan unwilling to let her go anywhere and Bee unwilling to leave. He spoke to his parents for a while, crying on the phone to them and explaining the entire situation – what happened on the ice, the phone call he got from Kyle, what they did at the arena, and the interview with the NHL. Then came the texts from the teammates that were sent earlier in the night – from Jake, John, Tyler, Auston, Naz, Fred, _everybody_ – and he responded to all of them, and then Jake called, and they spoke about it, and Tyler called Bee, because Morgan’s line was busy, and she explained to him the situation, and he told her to tell Morgan to call him in the morning, and then Aryne called saying she couldn’t sleep, wondering if everything was okay, and it was just _a lot_. Everybody wanted to know what was happening, and she understood why, but she could only relive it so many times. So she stopped responding and calling to everybody, and when she finally focused back on Morgan, she saw his body shaking and him scrolling through Twitter.

“NO!” she screamed, running towards him and yanking his phone out of his grip. “Don’t – Morgan – NO,” she stressed, wanting to throw his phone – _both_ their phones – out the window and on to the street so a car could run over them. “Why would you – _why would you_ \--”

“-- They hate me and they think I did it --”

“Stop it – no – listen to me,” she grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her. “Those people can go fuck themselves. The people that matter – _the people that matter_ – know you would never say that shit. Me. Your teammates. Your bosses. They _all_ know you’d never say that word. _Fuck_ those people. They’re the same people that send me DMs on Instagram. Are you really going to listen to them?”

“They keep retweeting the video. They keep – they keep --”

“They’re _wrong_,” she said definitively. “They’re all fucking wrong, and you know it. Don’t listen to them.”

“Bee…Bee…” he hiccupped out, tears still streaming down his face, unable to say anything else. 

She wrapped her arms around his body again, another attempt to calm him down, and with each shake of his body from the stress and fatigue and everything else, the more her heart broke for him. This was the worst kind of psychological torture he could go through and she knew it was tearing him apart. And no matter how long she held him; no matter how long she played with his hair or cooed in his ear to calm him; no matter how long they lay on the couch together and she told him everything was going to be okay – nothing worked. His body kept shaking. He kept intermittently crying. His eyes became redder and the bags became deeper and she wanted so desperately to make everything okay.

And before she knew it, it was 7am. They hadn’t slept. Bee called her boss, Mark Travers, and asked for the day off, promising she’d come in on Saturday and get his coffee for an entire week. Being a hockey fan, he understood. She was lucky. Morgan decided to try and call Kyle and Brendan again, to see if they had any new information, but they didn’t. Bee tried to make him toast, but he wouldn’t eat. His teammates began waking up, and the phone calls and texts commenced again. No eating. Another phone call from Shirley and Andy. Angie and Mason offering to come over and cook breakfast.

And then the tweet from the NHL Public Relations department. 12:41pm. _Following a thorough investigation, the National Hockey League has determined that Toronto Maple Leafs defenseman Morgan Rielly did not direct a homophobic slur at referee Brad Meier during last night’s game with the Tampa Bay Lightning at Scotiabank Arena._

For the first time in what seemed like forever, Bee could see Morgan physically decompress. She saw his shoulders unstiffen, his jaw unclench, his hands stop wringing, and his brows stop furrowing. _Morgan Rielly did not direct a homophobic slur. Did not._

_Did not._

A phone call from Brendan and Kyle. _“We’re going to have a press conference. Can you get to the arena?”_ A shower. A grey suit, no tie. A casual black dress. Another trip to Scotiabank Arena. An espresso to wake up. A chat with Kyle, Brendan, and Steve. _“Can I please sit in on the press conference?”_ A seat directly at the front, near the door, so Morgan would see her first when he emerged. Reporters. Cameras. News outlets. Microphones. Lights. A press conference. Kyle being honest about the events of last night. Morgan reiterating he was confident that he didn’t say that word. Morgan saying it was hard not to make a statement because of how strongly he felt about it. Kyle reiterating how there was no place for homophobia in hockey. Morgan reiterating how there was no place for homophobia in hockey.

She could tell how tired he was by the way he repeated himself and stumbled through some of his answers. If the reporters couldn’t tell, they could definitely see by the size of the bags under his eyes and the physical fatigue his body looked like it endured for the last eighteen hours. But like any reporter dealing with the Leafs, they asked question after question until Steve finally put an end to it. He helped usher Bee to the back with Morgan, where they retreated back into Kyle’s office. _“It’s all over now,”_ Kyle said, amongst other things. _“Go grab some food. Get some sleep. You need to rest for the game tomorrow.”_

It was 4pm by the time they returned to Morgan’s apartment. He was exhausted. So was Bee. The mental toll was much greater than the physical one, but his body still ached from shaking practically all night and being so tense. They ordered food. Jake, John, and Tyler called to ask about the press conference. Andy and Shirley called to speak to them as well and make sure everything was okay. Morgan ate some of the food they ordered, but not enough as he should have. He just wanted to go to bed. So by 6pm, Bee drew together the curtains, closed the bedroom door, and climbed into bed with him.

“I never want to have to go through that again,” he said as she snuggled into him.

“Shhhh, it’s okay. It’s all over now,” she cooed, cradling his face in her hands and giving him a quick kiss. “It’s all over. You don’t have to worry about it anymore.”

“This sort of stuff lasts for a long time. I don’t know…” he mumbled.

“Shhh,” she cooed again, giving him another kiss. “You didn’t say it, and now everyone knows. That’s it. It’s over. You can’t let it stress you out, baby.”

“Briony?”

“Hmm?”

“Can you…” he hesitated. “Can you just like…lay on top of me? Like a blanket? You know like how I do with you sometimes?”

He didn’t need to ask twice. She lifted herself on top of him and he wrapped his arms around her tightly. She buried her face under his chin and he nestled his own face against hers. They lay on the bed silent for a while until Morgan piped up again. “Briony?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry I put you through this.”

She lifted her head so she could get a good look at him. “Why are you apologizing?” she ran her thumb along his lips tenderly. “You did nothing wrong.”

“Not just today. Everything,” he admitted. “Today, the messages you get…everything. It’s all because of me. And I’m sorry.”

“What are you even _talking_ about?” she asked. “It’s not because of you at all. Morgan…I would take them ten times over if meant I could be with you.”

“Really?”

“You know how you told me on your birthday that you’re _in this_?” she asked. He nodded his head. “Well I’m _in this_ too. I don’t care about the messages. And I know your character…where you came from, who you are, who you want to be. I’m going to be here for you, always, whether you like it or not.”

He wrapped his arms around her tighter. A small tear rolled down his cheek and Bee padded it away with her thumb before giving him a kiss. He quickly settled into what Bee thought was sleep – his heartbeat steadied, his eyes closed. It wasn’t until he mumbled a few words that she realized he was still awake. “I want you to be here all the time Briony.”

She wasn’t sure if it was him or the sleep talking. “What?” she whispered, even though she had a pretty good idea of what he meant.

“I want you here all the time. At my place. Will you at least think about it?”

Lying there on top of him, sheltered away and closed off from the rest of the city, from the cameras and the microphones and hockey; lying there with Morgan, not _Morgan Rielly_, so defeated and so vulnerable yet so stoic and so honourable; lying there as Briony McTavish, with five year plans and life rules not meant to be broken but never having experienced a love like this before; lying in bed together, in each other’s arms, each other’s bodies, Briony said the only thing she could say – the only thing she wanted to say – despite her rules and her five year plans and anything else she used as an excuse or a way to plan out her life.

“Yes.”


	26. Chapter 25

“Okay, before everybody breaks for lunch, I just want to confirm that we have the big meeting on April 1st with Crosby and Partners,” Mark Travers announced to his team just as they were finishing their meeting. “I know there’s still a lot of time, but we’re all good with that, yes?”

“We’re good, Mr. Travers,” Kit, one of the senior financial analysts responded. “The numbers are looking good. We can go over our game plan next week.”

“Alright. Perfect,” he nodded his head. “Have a great lunch, everybody. See you in an hour. Oh, and Briony – can you please stay back?”

A shiver ran up Bee’s spine as she watched the rest of her colleagues exit the meeting room while she stayed standing where she was previously sitting. Mark smiled and waited until everybody left – even waited until the glass door shut so nobody could hear them – before he began to talk to her. “You’re not in trouble, don’t worry.”

“Good to know.”

“I know you’ve only been here two months, but I need to ask you if you’ve been considering getting your CFA certification,” he asked, leaning down against the conference table.

“Oh, of course,” she nodded her head. “I understand it’s the logical next step in my professional career.”

“So what’s holding you back?”

“N-Nothing is holding me back, per se,” she said, hesitating. “I, um, I just know how expensive it is to take the exam. Between fees and study guides it’s around $1500. I’ve saved my money but --”

“Briony, we expense CFA fees. You don’t have to pay for them out of pocket,” Mark revealed like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I thought you knew that.”

“N-No, I didn’t,” she shook her head. “Like…you guys pay for it? All?”

“Yes. We reimburse you once you’ve registered. You really didn’t think we would pay for professional advancement?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t think the department would be that nice,” she tried to make a joke.

Mark couldn’t help but chuckle. “Well, we do. I know the registration deadline is in about six weeks, so I’d just like you to consider it,” he offered. “You’re doing well here. Both Augusta and I are impressed. I can see you having a really bright future and I don’t want the CFA certification to be lagging. I want you to get it as early as possible.”

“Okay. Thanks Mark.”

“Even if we didn’t, Bee, I mean…wouldn’t Morgan foot the bill? The guy’s not exactly counting his pennies.”

Bee stiffened at Mark’s words, the insinuation that Morgan would pay for everything because he was _Morgan Rielly_ and earned a $5 million dollar contract. “I would never expect that from Morgan _at all_. Ever. My career is _my_ career.”

Mark, to his credit, saw she didn’t want to entertain the subject. “You can speak to me or Augusta if you have any questions about it. See you after lunch, Bee.”

When she emerged from the meeting room after Mark, she made her way to her small office to put her files on her desk and grab her purse to head out for lunch. She was sure Angie and Mason were already waiting for her at the front of the office, that Angie was probably chatting up their receptionist Tess, and Mason was trying to pull her away. The office for Mark Travers’s team was nicely tucked away within its own corner on the 60th floor of the Scotia Plaza. Structured long like a bowling alley with the receptionist’s desk and waiting area breaking up the left side and the right side, every office had a window with a view of the downtown core, which was nice when hours ran late. Mark’s office was at the very end of the left side, large and dark with a big seating area and lots of bookshelves. Beside his office was Bee’s, with a traditional L-shaped desk with filing cabinets and bookshelves. Mark had his closest senior financial analyst, Augusta Chambers, and the junior financial analyst she worked with, Juan Garcia-Lopez, on the same left side with him, along with the boardroom filled with floor to ceiling windows, where the team would regularly hold meetings and presentations for clients, filled out the space. On the right, the offices of the other two senior financial advisors, Everett Loudon and Kit Douglas, and their respective junior financial analysts, Naomi Klein and Max Brownstein, along with the washroom and a filing room filled the hallway.

When she emerged, she saw just as she was expecting: Angie chatting up Tess, Tess with a slightly terrified look on her face. “I’m ready, let’s go,” she announced loud enough so Angie could hear her.

Angie whipped her head towards Bee, pointing at Tess dramatically. “You have a receptionist.”

“She’s not _my_ receptionist you dummy,” Bee said. “She handles calls for everybody. Now can we go?”

“This is some fancy shit,” Angie mumbled under her breath. “See you later, Tess!” she waved at her.

“Bye,” Tess let out, giving Bee a scared look. Bee rolled her eyes at Angie’s actions before giving Tess the peace sign and leaving the office.

“You need to stop scaring every receptionist you meet,” Bee warned as they made their way towards the elevators. “It’s not cute. Especially not Tess because she’s fucking fantastic.”

“I was being harmless,” Angie fought. “Wasn’t I being harmless?” she looked to Mason for back up.

“You were scaring her,” Mason deadpanned.

“You guys suck.”

As the three of them found seats in a food court in the PATH, connected to Bee’s building, Bee sent a quick text to Morgan asking him how his day was going. Mason settled into the seat across from her, checking his phone. “Have you spoken to Morgan today?”

“Just texted him, actually,” she informed him, arching her eyebrow. “Why?”

“How’s he been since…you know…”

Bee sighed, locking her phone and placing it on the table. “He’s been…_okay_,” she admitted. “I’ve tried…I mean, _we’ve_ tried to move on as much as possible. He didn’t seem to skip a beat in hockey because he scored that goal against Chicago. He’s just trying to lay low, I think.”

“It’s fucking garbage that something like that has to happen in his Norris year,” Mason commented.

She didn’t want to talk about it, mostly because Morgan never wanted to talk about it. After beating Bobby Orr’s record at the beginning of the season, talk and chatter about the Norris trophy had followed Morgan throughout the season. He never wanted to entertain the possibility of being in contention, of being nominating, of winning – he wanted none of it. Bee didn’t know if he was trying to be humble or he honestly didn’t care. The only accolade he ever wanted in hockey was the Stanley Cup – everything else was superfluous. And she knew he wanted to be a Maple Leaf hoisting the cup. “Tell me about it,” she said. “I hate that it happened too, but we can’t dwell on it. We need to move forward as much as possible and forget that it happened.”

Before she could say anything else, her phone began to ring. When she looked down at the screen and saw Morgan’s name, she looked at Mason. “Speak of the devil,” she muttered. She got up from the table and picked up the phone. “Hey baby,” she said in an upbeat voice.

“Hey. What are you up to?”

“Just having lunch with Angie and Mason.”

“Oh yeah? Tell them I say hi. I just finished up at the gym and I’m probably gonna take a nap.”

The only thing Bee heard was the curtness of his voice as he spoke. They were going out tonight with Tyler and Fred, but by the sounds of it, something else was bothering him. “Is everything okay, baby?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he answered automatically, but the same curtness was in his voice and she didn’t believe him. “Why wouldn’t everything be okay?”

“You sound upset.”

“I’m not upset. I just finished up at the gym. It’s probably that,” he said.

“Morgan, come on,” she pressured. “What’s wrong? You’re clearly upset about something.”

She heard him sigh heavily on the other end. “It’s Eugene Melnyk.”

“Who’s Eugene Melnyk?”

“He’s the owner of the Ottawa Senators,” he said quickly. “He had the audacity to go on a radio show today and he said – he said we’re going to have a very hard time winning a Stanley Cup without defence. He said…he said ‘mistakes were made. _Somebody forgot about defence_.’”

“Somebody forgot about defence? What does that even mean?” Bee asked. “Does he not --”

“It’s a fucking slight at our entire defence core! At _me_!” he yelled, unable to hold in his emotions anymore. “Where does he get off – who does he think – I don’t even know _where_ he gets off saying something like that when --”

“Morgan, Morgan, calm down,” she interrupted him. “Baby, he’s dumb. He’s dumb and he has no idea what he’s talking about.”

“But is he right?”

“What? NO!” she stressed. “Morgan, you’re having the best year of your career and this…this _guy_ just goes on a radio show and disrespects _you_, he disrespects _Kyle_, he disrespects _Brendan_ \--”

“But is he _right_?”

“_No_, he’s _wrong_ Morgan. He’s completely wrong. He’s an owner – so what? What does he know? Just because you own a hockey team it doesn’t mean you actually _know_ anything about hockey.”

“Bee…” he grimaced, his voice suddenly nervous mixed with his anger. “I don’t like that he said something like that so…_close_ to…he’s fucking with every defenseman on this team and he knows it,” he didn’t finish his original thought. Bee knew what he wanted to say and her stomach churned. “Just because they beat us 6-2 last Saturday he thinks he can say this shit?”

“He’s being an idiot Morgan. It’s dirt off your shoulder. Your team is the one going to the playoffs, not his,” she said. “And you’re the one that’s going to be in contention for the Norris trophy, not any of his defensemen.” There was silence on the other end from Morgan, and she knew he was trying to calm himself down. “Listen baby. I know you’re angry, but he’s not worth your energy or time. Just…think about all the fun we’re going to have tonight. We’ve wanted to go to this restaurant for a long time.”

“Okay…okay…” he acquiesced, his voice calmer and without the stiffness it had before. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize. Just relax, okay? Don’t think about it.”

“I’ll see you tonight, Bumblebee,” he said. “I love you.”

“I love you too. See you tonight.”

After Bee hung up the phone, she looked back to the table to see Angie and Mason chowing down on the salads she’d gotten them from Freshii. She made her way back to the table, slipping into her seat and putting her phone on the table.

“Everything okay with Morgan?” Angie asked, shoving a piece of chicken into her mouth.

“Who is Eugene Melnyk?” Bee asked.

Mason rolled his eyes. “Oh Lord. Here we go.”

*

“He said it not thinking we’d say anything! Or be asked about it! Can you believe the guy?”

Bee rolled her eyes. When she got home from work, Morgan was still in a pissy mood about what Eugene Melnyk had said earlier in the day. Hours after she arrived home, he was _still_ bringing it up. Still making comments about it. Still unable to let it go, even though he was asked about it publicly, and he said it was “pretty funny”. That’s what he had to say in front of the dozens of microphones, but this is how he really felt.

“Babe, you have to remember he’s an idiot,” she said for what felt like the umpteenth time. “You can’t let it get to you.”

“I just wonder why he thinks he can say that we _forgot about defense_ when he’s playing a glorified AHL team,” Morgan muttered, scrolling through his phone, looking at God knows what.

Bee pursed her lips and looked at her watch to check the time. They had about half an hour before they were supposed to leave. If he was going to keep talking about this for half an hour, she wanted no part in it. “Listen, we’ll go out and we’ll have fun with Fred and Tyler and it’ll take your mind off of it. Tyler told me how much he’s looking forward to this.”

“Of course he would,” Morgan huffed haughtily. “He’s finally in for a normal night out. Won’t be having too many more in Toronto, unfortunately.”

Bee stiffened at Morgan’s words. He didn’t even bother looking back as she went silent – he just kept scrolling through his stupid phone. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.

“He’s only signed to the Leafs for a year, Bumblebee. He played in Buffalo and Minnesota and now he’s here in Toronto just for league minimum but nobody knows if he’s sticking around,” Morgan said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“You…you mean like he might get traded? He…he might not stay?”

“Nope,” he replied automatically. “Listen, I love the guy, and I know you love him too, but I think it’s pointless for you to get so close to him when he might be gone soon. That’s the thing about hockey – he can be shipped to the west coast tomorrow and you wouldn’t even know about it until the media release. Then what’re you gonna do? Can’t be all close with Enzo then, you know?”

Bee felt her face flush red with emotion. Here he was, the fucking _asshole_, not giving a shit about anybody besides himself, scrolling through his phone on the couch telling her one of her good friends could be sold _like cattle_ to a different team, and he was so nonchalant about it that she wanted to rip his hair out of his scalp to see if he could actually feel _something_ about it. She was so angry she had to bite her tongue; so angry that her shoulders tensed and she had to actively tell herself not to respond or else she’d regret it. Instead, she emptied her glass of iced tea into the sink and set it down on the counter. “I’m going to go get ready,” she said, turning away to walk towards the bedrooms. “Be ready by 7:30, please.”

Bee took off all her makeup for work and began to reapply so she had a fresh face for a Friday night out, but the shade that was usually her perfect fit looked wrong because her face was so red. The eyeliner she had mastered over the last few months was wobbly and messy, re-done three times over, because of the tears welling in her eyes. Eventually she just didn’t care anymore, leaving on the wobbly line that was probably too thick on one eyelid, and swiped some lipstick across her lips. Morgan didn’t come check on her at all. He didn’t even pop his head in. He was probably still scrolling through his phone.

Her anger seeped through her slow like lava from a volcano. She wasn’t mad that he was so fixated on the comment anymore – she couldn’t care less about Eugene Melnyk or about _anything_ to do with hockey at this point. She was mad at Morgan and Morgan alone. Morgan and his carelessness, his complete lack of awareness, his self-centredness, his narcissism, his…_everything_. The fact that he would say something so awful to her about being close with Tyler – that it was “pointless” because he might be leaving – made her blood boil. It was a stark and harsh reminder of how alone she had been before she met him. It reminded her of how she had curated her own family from her relationships with people, like with Angie and Mason. She never had a family – not a traditional one, at least. There was never any strong connection with her mother – hell, the only real relationship there ever was was between Sharon and alcohol – and now that Sharon was dead, Bee truly _was_ alone in the world. At least, that’s how it felt at this particular moment.

She had built everything in her life from the ground up: her education, her career, her friendships, and her relationships. She’d done everything herself and she was proud of it. With that single comment, Morgan had just completely ruined it, like a kid kicking castle of blocks across the room. Everything she had built since she met him was just a glass castle ready to shatter. Insignificant. It didn’t mean anything to him. Any relationship she formed with someone she met through him was apparently irrelevant, worth nothing, because hey, they could be shipped off tomorrow. It didn’t matter. Any work she put into creating a family of people around her that loved and supported her was useless. She felt sick to her stomach. Sick that he took that love and support for granted. He’d had a family growing up – a great one at that – a family that gave him all the love in the world and continued to do so. And the coming and going of hockey: he was used to this life – he’d been living it since he was fourteen. She hadn’t. At almost the same age, she was fighting to be legally emancipated from her mother. They never lived the same life and she knew that, but now, he was making it strikingly obvious just how oblivious he was about it all.

The car ride there was quiet. Bee barely engaged with Morgan, even though he would look over at her during red lights. She knew he could sense something was wrong, but from the way he acted earlier in the night, she knew he wasn’t going to acknowledge his wrongdoings. When they ended up arriving at Carisma on Toronto Street, she got out of the car and didn’t reach to grab his hand. She saw Fred and Tyler standing near the door waiting for their arrival. When they noticed her, she made a beeline for them with outstretched arms. Morgan didn’t bother to increase his pace.

“Hey!” she smiled excitedly, hugging Tyler first who picked her up slightly and placed a big kiss on her cheek like he always did. She moved on to Fred who bent down to hug and greet her. “I’m so excited! Aren’t you guys?”

“Very,” Fred said, looking past her to Morgan who was still walking to approach them. “How’s everything with you?”

“It’s great!” she said, definitely over-compensating. “Let’s go in and get our table.”

“Shouldn’t we wait for your lover?” Tyler joked.

“He’s a big boy,” she commented, opening the glass doors to the restaurant and motioning for them to go in. Like any good teammates would, they waited for him to approach and greeted him before walking in the door. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at them, Tyler catching it and giving her a quick wink before he walked in first.

Bee tried to keep the conversation off of hockey for as long as possible. She didn’t want to give Morgan the opportunity to pout and have him teammates tell him how much of a good defenseman he was because he was feeling butt-hurt over Eugene Melnyk, and she assumed Fred and Tyler didn’t want to talk about hockey 24/7, especially at a nice Italian restaurant where they could be talking about so many other things. Once their drinks arrived, Bee sipped on her Pear Te cocktail and ordered the tagliolini with duck confit and wild mushrooms and truffles.

“Are you coming to the game tomorrow night?” Tyler asked Bee, unfolding his napkin and setting it onto his lap as the waiter brought Fred’s entrée first after some time waiting.

“Probably,” she shrugged her shoulders. “I’m at every other Hockey Night in Canada. Why miss one?”

“Briony doesn’t like hockey very much right now,” Morgan quipped, unfolding his own napkin. “We’re going to have to play a good game tomorrow to make her love it again.”

She stared at Morgan sitting beside her. Fred was looking at her like he knew something. Tyler was looking at her too but was oblivious. “Why don’t you like hockey right now? Is it because Babs didn’t play me against Buffalo?”

“That’s part of it,” she smiled at him.

“She doesn’t like hockey right now because she hates that it puts me in a sour mood sometimes,” Morgan continued, ignoring her previous answer to Tyler’s question. “I was actually surprised to see her in such a happy mood when we got here. She hasn’t spoken to me since we left the apartment.” Tyler’s eyebrows rose at what Morgan said. Fred still sat stoic. Everybody’s food was in front of them now, but nobody was eating. “She’s mad at me, in case you couldn’t tell from the running away from me when she saw you guys.”

“Uh, listen, Fred and I can move to another table until you guys figure whatever this is out,” Tyler said, moving his fork between the two of them.

“It’s fine,” she said quickly, picking her up her own fork. Her body was starting to feel hot and a tingling sensation made its way up her spine. “Morgan is just overreacting a bit. He’ll get over it soon.”

“Overreacting,” he smiled at Fred, nodding towards Bee with a sarcastic grin on his face. “I find it rich that you say I’m overreacting when I’m asking you to support me when someone made a disparaging comment about my career today.”

“Listen, guys, I’ll be over at the bar when you’re done and --”

“And I find it rich that you want me to move in with you but you can’t entertain the idea of me not wanting to talk about hockey all day just because somebody said a mean thing about you.”

Tyler froze at the comment, holding his fork and knife tines and blade up as his eyes bulged out of their sockets. Clearly Morgan hadn’t said anything to his teammates about the proposition he’d proposed to Bee almost two weeks ago. Tyler tried to say something but nothing came out. He tried again, but he just looked like an idiot opening and closing his mouth. “Umm, do you think that maybe we should --”

“So that’s what it is then? _My_ feelings aren’t taken into consideration on this?” Morgan probed.

“Your feelings _were_ taken into consideration on this, Morgan. They’ve been taken into consideration _all day_. They were taken into consideration when the media asked you about it, during our phone call at lunch, and when I came home from work for _two hours_ until I had to get ready,” Bee said sternly. “I tried to talk to you about how excited _I_ was for tonight because I was getting to see my friends, and you couldn’t give two shits about what was coming out of my mouth unless it concerned _you_. Now can we please discuss this later so we can somewhat enjoy our meal with our fr--”

“No no no, we can discuss it now,” he interrupted. “You’re mad because I’m still in a pissy mood about Melnyk’s comments today, and you probably thought I’d be over it by now, even though he basically shit on my career,” Morgan said. “But it’s fine. Whatever. I guess I’ll just _have_ to get over it.”

Bee dropped her utensils on her plate loudly. “I’m mad because you take _family_ for granted,” she stressed through gritted teeth, trying to remain as calm as possible. She watched as both Fred’s and Tyler’s eyes went wide and looked at Morgan. She looked down at her plate, focusing on her tagliolini, because if she looked at Morgan, Fred, or Tyler again, she was going to burst into tears. And she wanted to say this. She _really_ wanted and _needed_ to say this. “I’m mad because you keep conveniently forgetting I’ve never had a family, and when I attempt to create a family of people who actually fucking love me, who don’t emotionally abuse me and who don’t care about alcohol more than they do me, you shit all over it and tell me those people will get shipped off so I shouldn’t become close to them. That what I’m doing is somehow being done in vain just because they’ll be a maximum three hour time difference away from me in a few months.”

Tyler and Fred continued to look at Morgan. Morgan, for his part, had the exact same look on his face as they had. Shock. Fear. He was definitely scared at the tone she was using – too calm for what she was saying – and the fact that she wasn’t looking at him. He was sure that if she did, literal daggers would emerge from her eyes. “I never--”

“Listen, I get that you come from a very privileged background, that you’ve always had a family and they’ve always been there for you, but some of us haven’t had that luxury, and just because people like me have had to _make_ our own families instead of inherit them, it _doesn’t_ mean they’re any less valid or like a real family,” she continued. “I get that some guy just shit on your skill and career. I get that you just went through a really traumatic event where a lot of people were willing to turn on you in the blink of an eye without concrete proof. But while you’re used to friends being shipped off to all corners of the continent to make _millions_ of dollars somewhere else, I’m trying to learn how to come to terms with the fact that people I love might leave me and _I don’t know how to fucking deal with that yet_. So I’d appreciate it if you could get your head out of your ass for one minute to realize that your girlfriend is having a really difficult time coping with the fact that the people she loves might leave her even when all she’s known all her life is loss due to her alcoholic mother not giving a shit about her since the day she was born.” Tears began to fall down her face but she still refused to look at him or the other two men surrounding her. “When people don’t care about you, and you don’t care about them, and they leave, it’s one thing. But when you give a shit about each other, _it’s different_. And you should know that, Morgan Rielly. You should _fucking_ know that.”

Bee left the table quietly, rising and placing her napkin on her chair before rushing towards the back of the restaurant where the washrooms were. Her tears had spilled onto her cheeks but luckily no waiter or waitress saw her as she slipped into one of the two available women’s washrooms. She immediately locked the door behind her and leaned on the sink, looking at her red eyes and tear-stained face in the mirror. Grabbing some toilet paper, she blotted them away quickly. She couldn’t believe that actually happened – in front of Tyler and Fred, no less. She couldn’t believe that they actually took it that far in public, in front of people. That had never happened before, and she never wanted it to happen again.

Bee had no idea how long she was in the washroom for. It was only the loud knock from the other side that alerted her back to the fact that she was in a public place still and it probably needed to be used by other patrons. “It’s occupied!” she called out, hoping they’d go away.

“It’s me, sweetcheeks,” she heard Tyler’s voice. “Open up.”

She unlocked the door and watched as Tyler slipped into the washroom with her, closing the door behind him and locking it like she’d done earlier. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” she shrugged her shoulders, putting the toilet seat down so she could sit on it. “Morgan didn’t want to come?”

“Morgan’s embarrassed. He knows you don’t want to see him. Fred might also be tearing him a new asshole right now, but that’s beyond the point,” Tyler said. “This whole thing was about me, wasn’t it?”

“No.”

“Don’t lie to me. Morgan’s become one of my best friends on this team. You know I’ll find out one way or another.”

“It honestly wasn’t…not the whole thing, at least,” Bee admitted. He didn’t deserve to be lied to. “He’s been stuck in his own world all day and I don’t know how to get him out of it. He made a comment about it being pointless for me to get close to anyone because the nature of hockey means people might get shipped off to all corners of the continent.”

“He’s not wrong, Bee. In his own way he’s trying to protect you from heartbreak.”

She shook her head, more tears threatening to spill. “He doesn’t understand that I need to create my own family,” she said in a strained voice. “He doesn’t…_none_ of you understand how important my friends are to me. My friends are my family, Tyler. I’ve finally found people who love and support me like a real family and he just…he just _shit_ on all of that.”

“It’s not like he meant to,” Tyler tried to make the situation better. “His head’s been in a weird place since the slur incident and it’s just taken a toll on him.”

“You don’t think I know that? I practically _live_ with him. I can see how much he’s still affected by it,” Bee said, wiping her tears. “I know it was traumatic for him. It was traumatic for me too. But that’s beside the point. I don’t…I meant what I said out there. I don’t know how to cope when people I love leave me. It was different with my mom because of who she was and what she put me through but if someone like you or Jake or anybody left I wouldn’t know how to deal. You guys do because that’s what hockey is about but I’m not used to that life.”

“Bee…”

“All I’ve known is loss and I don’t want to know that anymore,” she broke down again, tears streaming down her face.

“Shhhhh…” Tyler crouched down to hug her, rubbing her back gently as she cried on his shoulder. He never thought he’d be the one to console a crying girl in the bathroom of a fancy Italian restaurant, but here he was: Toronto gave him many opportunities outside of hockey too, apparently.

“I know it’s out of my control but he made it seem as if things are just going to _end_ and that’s why everything is pointless and I don’t know how to deal--”

“Bee, it’s not pointless and it’s not going to end,” Tyler said as he pulled away from her. “You love more than you’ve lost, Bee, or what you might lose. And you have to think that you’ll have family all across the continent now, if people _do_ leave, so no matter where you go, you’ll have family somewhere. That’s the opposite of being alone.”

He made a good point. She relaxed slightly in his arms as she thought about what he meant. “You’re right. But I still…worry about the pain of loss.”

“You won’t feel pain if you never lose anything,” he said, sounding so wise beyond his years that Bee felt comforted by his words. “You might lose them physically but you won’t lose the relationship. And I can guarantee you that this this,” he pointed between the two of them, “won’t be lost. Neither will any of your other relationships.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder, smiling at what he’d said. He was right. For how emotional she was right now, she understood what he was saying, and he was completely right. “You’re the best, Tyler.”

“It’s like…what’s the quote from that really deep philosopher guy? ‘How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.’ It’s that.”

Bee couldn’t help but snort. “That’s from Winnie the Pooh.”

“Like I said, a really deep philosopher guy.”

She couldn’t help but giggle, his trademark sense of humour shining through to make her feel better about the situation. She raised her head from his shoulder and looked at him. “You’re seriously the best. I’m trying not to be too scared of the future but I do know that no matter what, you’ll be in it.”

“You’re damn right I will be,” he said, smiling. “Now, are you going to talk to Mo?”

She shook her head. “Can you call me an Uber? I don’t want to go back out there.”

“Like an escape out the back door?” he wiggled his eyebrows. “Count me in.”

*

It was a few hours later when Bee heard the lightest knock she’d ever heard on her apartment door. She knew it was Morgan, and judging by the fact that she didn’t get an alert from the condo system that he was asking for permission to come in, he probably slipped through when he saw someone else coming or going. Very stealth, she thought.

True to his word, Tyler had called her an Uber and she’d left through the kitchen’s back door. He returned to his seat only then to let Fred and Morgan know that she had left. Morgan was distraught and by that point, thanks to Fred’s tearing of a new asshole, knew he was in the wrong. He couldn’t believe he had been so stupid and so selfish. He had been so short sighted and so self-involved that he didn’t even realize that what he said to her – when he wasn’t even thinking – completely tore her up inside. He was an idiot, and he needed to make it better.

When Bee opened the door, the first things she noticed were his red eyes. Whether or not crying or fatigue or whatever else caused them, they were red and puffy. His body was hunched over. “Can I come in?” he asked. His voice was raspy and deep. She nodded her head.

He followed her all the way to the bedroom, where he stood in the doorframe while he watched her pace briefly before facing him, crossing her arms against her body. “Can I come in, Briony?” he asked again.

“You listen to me,” she began instead of answering him. “You never say something like that to me ever again.”

“I won’t,” he responded immediately, shaking his head. He knew exactly the comment she was referring to. “God Briony, I’m so fucking stupid, and I’m so sorry--”

“You have no clue. You have no clue what it’s like not to have a family,” she said, her voice cracking, unable to hold back her emotions. “You have so many families, Morgan. You have your biological family, you have your billet family, you have your Notre Dame family and your Moose Jaw family and your Leafs family. You have all these places that you consider home. I’ve never had that. You keep conveniently forgetting that I’ve never had that.”

“I know I do. And I’m so sorry,” Morgan said, finally taking a step into the room. “Briony, you have to know how sorry I am. I’ve been going over in my mind what I want to say to you to show you how truly sorry I am.”

Bee shook her head, unable to look at him. She sat on the edge of the bed and brought her hands up to wipe her eyes. “I’m trying,” she said, tears beginning to fall though she was wiping them away. “I’m trying to understand how all-encompassing hockey is and I just _can’t_. I’m not good at it. I know that hockey is your entire life, Morgan. I know. And I understand that because it’s your hobby and your passion and your career all rolled into one. Hockey is how you made all your families.”

“Bumblebee--”

“Stop,” she said. He stood in silence watching more tears roll down her cheeks and couldn’t take it. He walked towards her and got down on his knees in in between her legs, wrapping his arms around her. She looked at him through her welled-up eyes, so close to her, and knew she couldn’t lie to him. She had to get everything out. “When you said what you did, it reminded me of when I was alone, when I had nobody in this world who loved me,” she whispered.

“I know. I see that now. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t want to go back to being alone, Morgan,” she sobbed out, finally letting it all out. “I don’t want to go back to being alone. I don’t want to--”

“You won’t, Bumblebee, you won’t--”

“My mother died. My. Mother. Died,” she said the words slowly, cautiously, and out loud. “She was all I ever had in this world and I never even _had_ her. Alcohol had her. I was alone for _so _long. And then I finally found _you_ and a group of people who love me and you just…you just _said that_ and you made it seem like you don’t care at all.”

“I do care, Briony. I do care.”

“They make me feel whole, Morgan. They…they – like your parents. You family. They make me feel whole. _My friends_ are my family and they make me feel whole. You need to understand that’s what I have in this life. _I don’t have anything else_ besides my friends.”

“I’m sorry Bumblebee, I’m so sorry. You were right. I take these things for granted--”

“It’s not about me being right.”

“I know it’s not. But you _are_. I take these things for granted and sometimes I just…I get so wrapped up in my own head and I don’t know how to get out of it. And I took it out on you today and I can’t…I was being so selfish that I didn’t see how much I hurt you.”

“I know I’m not innocent in this. I want to get more involved in hockey so I understand where you’re coming from…why you have these emotions sometimes. I kept trying to convince myself that we could live within the two solitudes but we can’t. It needs to be blended. There needs to be a balance. We can do that, right?”

“Of course we can. Of course.”

“But you’re all I have, Morgan. You and my friends, our friends – they’re my _family_. I never want to be alone again like I was back then because I know what it’s like to feel whole, and I don’t care if they’re on opposite ends of the continent. They’re my _family_.”

“I know. I know. I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, I swear. I swear I will. I never want you to feel like this ever again. I never want you to feel like I’ve hurt you. I can’t even live with myself knowing how much I hurt you tonight.”

Bee remained quiet, even when Morgan grabbed her hands and held them in hers tightly. She felt exhausted. All cried out. Like she couldn’t cry anymore even if she tried. But she found herself nodding her head. Gently. Slowly. An acknowledgement that she told him her greatest fear in her new life with him. An acknowledgement that he understood her fear, and that he’d never take for granted what he had with her or, most importantly, what she had built while she was with him.

“Can I stay over tonight?” he whispered gently. He needed to be with her. “Please.”

She closed her eyes momentarily. This was going to be the hardest thing she would ever have to say. “You can stay in the guest bedroom.”

She practically heard his heart drop to his stomach and break into a thousand pieces. “Bumblebee, please--”

“No.”

“_Please_,” he begged, chest beginning to heave. “Bumblebee.”

“Morgan.”

“Briony, _please_, I’m _begging_ you,” his voice was shaky. He grabbed at her desperately but she kept peeling his hands away from her. “_Please_ Bumblebee. I can’t sleep – I can’t – I _can’t_ – I love you – please, _please_, I’m--”

“You can stay in the guest bedroom in the same apartment as me or you can go home and sleep there,” she stood her ground, as hard as it was, finally looking at him. Tears had welled and spilled out of his eyes almost automatically. “So take your pick.”

“Bumblebee--”

“Take your pick.”

“Bumblebee _please_\--”

“Take. Your. Pick.”

Morgan looked at her completely heartbroken and dejected. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t say anything. The only thing he could do was watch as Bee peeled his arms off her body one last time and slid further into bed, getting underneath the covers and turn away from him, leaving him kneeling on the floor like a beggar. It was hard for her to do. She wanted desperately to turn towards him but she couldn’t. She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t do anything until she heard him get up from his spot slowly, make his way towards the door, and shut it closed. It was only then she let out a quiet sob.

*

Bee’s body was stiff. Her heart ached. She felt cold, like a wave of loneliness had washed over her as she tossed and turned throughout the night, unable to sleep. She had cried some more throughout the night, fixated on the thought of not wanting to return to the emptiness and loneliness of her life before; fixated on the relationships she had built and the family she had curated all her own, and the love and support they gave her. She needed to feel that warmth again.

She needed Morgan.

She climbed out of bed slowly and tip-toed through her room, opening her door as quietly as possible before making her way across the apartment to the guest bedroom. When she opened the door equally as slowly, she saw Morgan facing away from the doorway, curled up into the fetal position. She wasn’t sure if he was sleeping – or if he had even slept – either. She was quiet as she walked into the room, so much so that he didn’t hear a sound. She pulled the covers back softly and climbed into bed with him. She watched as his eyes opened when she grabbed his arm and draped it over her body, curling into him and wanting to feel every part of him. He moved too, pulling her body against his the second he felt her touch.

She felt tears on her shoulder as his head lay in the crook of her neck. She ran her fingers through his hair and placed a small kiss on his shoulder.

It was going to be okay.


	27. Chapter 26

When Bee walked into the Scotiabank Arena Monday night, ready for the Leafs to face the Florida Panthers, she already had Aryne and Alannah waiting for her impatiently. Bee hadn’t gone to the game against New York on Saturday because she was…tired. From work. At least that’s what she told them.

She knew that Fred and Tyler wouldn’t say a word to anyone about the fight. She trusted them. On Saturday, when the Leafs faced New York on _Hockey Night in Canada_, Bee just wasn’t up for going to the arena. She was still emotionally drained from the night before, and even though she and Morgan had a long talk that morning, resolving _a lot_ of things, she didn’t want to be around people. She didn’t want to be around hockey. He respected that. The Leafs ended up losing in overtime, but when Morgan came home, he wasn’t in a bad mood. Instead, he took off his suit, threw on his pajamas, and held Bee in his arms for the whole night. He kept telling her how much he loved her; she kept telling him the same. He kept kissing her tenderly and apologizing; she kept saying there was nothing to apologize about anymore. He kept telling her how he wished he could give her the world, the moon and the stars – anything her heart desired and that she wanted in life; she kept saying she’d throw it all away – every bag, every shoe, every book, every moon and star in the universe – because all she wanted was him.

He asked if she would move in before the playoffs; she nodded her head and said yes. Morgan could have cried.

“We missed you on Saturday night,” Alannah said as she and Aryne hugged Bee. “Was everything okay? You haven’t missed a Saturday night game in a while.”

Bee shrugged her shoulders. “It was…um…”

“We know it wasn’t _work_,” Aryne put air quotes around the word, giving Bee a look. “Did you and Morgan have a fight?”

Bee bit her lip. “We did, but it was resolved before the game. I was just…I don’t know…emotionally drained, I guess.”

“What was it about?” Aryne asked.

Bee shook her head. She loved Aryne, Aryne was one of her best friends, but she didn’t want to get into it. She didn’t want to air her dirty laundry with her boyfriend to the wife of a member of his hockey team, regardless of how close they were. “The fact of the matter is that we talked about it and solved it. And, um, I’m moving in.”

Both Alannah’s and Aryne’s jaws dropped. “Um, _please hold_,” Aryne raised her hand dramatically. “You’re moving into Morgan’s place?! When?!”

“Before the playoffs,” Bee revealed. “He’s wanted me to move in for a bit now, and, well, I finally agreed on Saturday night.”

“Bee, this is _huge_,” Alannah commented with a giant smile on her face. “I mean, especially if he’s wanted you to move in for a while. What was stopping you?”

_My own fear?_ She couldn’t say that out loud, at least not to them, so she settled for another shrug of her shoulders. “I guess I just wanted to get a job first before making such a big life decision,” she said. “I mean, it’s still technically not even a year since we met. We’re just reaching our six-month anniversary. No relationship I’ve ever had has ever gone this…_fast_.”

“Yeah, but you and Morgan, like…_love_ each other,” Aryne said. “Like, I don’t think I’ve _ever_ met a couple as on the same page as you guys. Morgan looks at you like you put the stars in the night sky, and you look at Morgan with this glimmer in your eyes and the softest smile on your face…and it honestly makes me sick,” she joked, garnering a laugh from both girls. “But I’m serious. You guys just sort of have this way about you, as if you’ve been together forever. You guys _get_ each other. That’s the most that anybody can ask for in a relationship.”

Bee couldn’t help but smile. “And that’s why it feels right,” she said. If Aryne could see it – if the outside world could see it – then it must mean something, right? “It might be…you know, _quick_ for some people, but it feels right to us. It feels like the natural progression of our relationship.”

“Well, I’m so happy for you,” Alannah said. “You’re over his place so much as it is. Why delay the inevitable?”

“That was his reasoning.”

“Aryne!” a voice called suddenly, interrupting their conversation.

Aryne spun around to see who called, and when she recognized the two people waving, she squealed and outstretched her arms to hug them. Alannah was smiling as well but Bee had no idea who they were. Soon, Aryne turned back towards the girls with a giant smile on her face. “Alannah, you guys have met, but Bee – these are my in-laws! Barb, Joe, this is my friend Briony McTavish!”

Bee’s face immediately lit up when she learned who they were. “Mr. and Mrs. Tavares! It’s so nice to meet you!” she shook their hands.

“Aryne has told us so much about you!” Barbara smiled. “Are you excited for the game tonight?”

“Very,” Bee smiled. “Gosh, you guys must be so excited to become grandparents!”

“Our first grandbaby!” Joe smiled, looking down at Aryne’s bump lovingly. “Barbara can’t wait to be a _babcha_. She’s already got a makeshift nursery set up. Even took out some of John’s old clothes to see if they can be given some new wear.”

“I think I’ve been shopping enough to cover that,” Aryne winked at Joe. “There’s also still the baby shower. Maybe just take out that classic Leafs toddler jacket you bought him for one of his baby photoshoots.”

“Oh my God, I’m going to completely melt if I see that,” Alannah quipped. “It’s like when Hank has his little Leafs onesie on. I totally become a pile of goo.”

“Briony, Aryne tells me this is your first season with the Maple Leafs,” Barbara said. “How have you taken to hockey so far? Do you like it?”

“I like it when we win,” Bee joked, getting a laugh from everyone around her. “To be honest, I’m still learning and getting used to it. Especially the line changes. Now I have to learn about the playoff format. It never ends!”

“It really doesn’t,” Barb shook her head. “John’s…what? 28 now? It’s been 25 years since we started hockey and I’m still learning things.”

“Just wait till the game starts, Barb. Bee knows all about the offside rule,” Aryne wiggled her eyebrows, garnering another round of laughs from the group. Aryne turned on her heels and waved at the group to follow her. “We should get to our seats before puck drop.”

Something must have been in the air at Scotiabank Arena that night, because by the end of the 1st period, it was already 4-2 for the Leafs. John had scored two goals, with Patrick and Jake scoring the other two. Aryne, Joe, and Barbara were going crazy, cheering him on and clapping, and the Sportsnet cameras shot to them to show their celebration. With the way they were sitting – Alannah at the end, then Bee, then Aryne, then John’s parents, Bee was definitely caught on camera. And she only realized this because Angie decided to send her the video, already uploaded onto Sportsnet’s Twitter account, of them all celebrating John’s two goals. Bee’s Rielly jersey definitely gave every viewer an indication of who she was there for.

“I have to go to the washroom,” Aryne mentioned as John’s parents were being interviewed by one of the Sportsnet personalities. “Will you come with me?”

“Of course,” Bee said as they both got up, letting Alannah know where they were going.

Bee began to walk up the stairs but Aryne walked down. When Aryne noticed Bee wasn’t beside her, she looked up. “I don’t want to walk up all those steps,” Aryne grimaced, putting a hand on her bump. “Let’s just go to the regular ones. I’m so tired.”

Bee could only acquiesce as she followed Aryne to the regular bathrooms, not the ones located in the friends and family section high above them on their special level. They waited patiently in the line, and although they kept a steady conversation, Bee noticed some long stares coming their way. She wondered if Aryne noticed them too. When a free stall came up, Aryne bolted inside, leaving Bee to wait for her, scrolling through her phone and reading all the updates she wasn’t able to read earlier in the day because of work. She checked her Instagram, as always, and saw a new barrage of notifications.

_You have a new BFF in the Leafs squad every week. First Lucy now Aryne. Must be because they see how desperate you are and want nothing to do with you._

_how do i become a wag like u can u help_

_Wearing Mo’s jersery so u can let everyone know ur with him. Ur a joke._

_The desperation R E E K S off of you! You are never going to be as pretty as Cassie or Steph Lachance or any of those girls so quit while you’re ahead! AND GO TO THE GYM FFS!!!!!_

_I know you’re not trying to be like the other wags. That’s very noble of you, I guess. But do you really think this crusade of yours is going to last? There are only so many comments Morgan will be able to take about how fat you are before he finally sees it and dumps you. You’re only getting fatter and fatter and it’s embarrassing for you and for Morgan. Why would you put him through that? You will never be part of the inner wag circle because of the way you look. That’s just how it is. That and the fact that you are bleeding Mo dry of his money. _

“I’m telling you, _that’s_ Briony McTavish,” a louder than anticipated whisper broke Bee out of her thoughts. She looked up from her phone quickly to see three girls standing near the entrance, one with a phone in her hands directed right at her. The second they noticed that Bee was looking at them, the girl holding the phone lowered it dramatically and put it in her purse.

Bee sighed. “You guys can approach me, you know,” she called out to them. “I don’t bite.” The girls’ mouths gaped open, like they didn’t know she could speak. She smiled politely to try to get the girls to calm down. “I mean it girls, I don’t bite. Did you want to speak to me?”

The girls shuffled over, looks of fear mixed with worship and complete shock adorning their faces. Two blondes, one with straight hair and one with short curly hair, clearly couldn’t believe what was happening. Their brunette friend – the one who had the phone in her hand – was able to find her words first. “Sorry, we just think you’re really pretty,” she said. “It’s nice to see a wag who isn’t a skinny blonde.”

“Well, thanks,” Bee said, unsure if she should be grateful for the compliment. “You could have asked to like…take a picture of whatever. I wouldn’t have minded if you had asked. I would just appreciate it if you didn’t take creeper shots of me.”

“Sorry,” straight-blonde-hair-girl said. “It’s just…well, we know that Morgan uploaded that picture of you on his birthday, but you’ve just been _all over_ the blogs online--”

“The blogs? All over? What do you mean?”

“You know…like, people are talking about you on the bunny blogs!” straight-blonde-hair-girl clarified, like it was the best thing in the world to get talked about online. “We _know_ they’re bunny blogs and we should take _everything_ they say with a grain of salt, but like, there was that whole thing where you were in Cassie’s New Years video that basically blew up all of Leafs Tumblr and the bunny blogs, and then the Vancouver pictures and then Morgan’s birthday pictures--”

“Seems like a lot of people are stealing a lot of my pictures,” Bee said sarcastically.

“It wasn’t us, we _swear_,” the brunette jumped in. “Everybody is just, like, wondering who you are. That’s all. There are like, the mean girls who start rumours about you, but nobody listens to them. I guess because you aren’t as open as Cassie people just want to know more.”

“Why _aren’t_ you as open as Cassie? ” the one with the short curly blonde hair finally spoke.

Bee couldn’t believe she would ask such a question, but she also knew that these girls were going to write into those same bunny blogs the _second_ this conversation was done with, so she had to watch what she was going to say. “Morgan and I are just private people. _Especially_ Morgan. He’s super private and super protective. And we want to keep it that way.”

“Did Morgan help you get the job at Scotiabank?”

Bee’s body stiffened. “How…how do you guys know I work at Scotiabank?”

“Well, like, someone Googled your name I guess, and it was on some website,” the young blonde said. “It’s been all over the bunny blogs.”

A shiver ran up Bee’s spine. She couldn’t believe how much information was out there about her, that they managed to find and steal from her, yet these girls _still_ wanted to know more. Should she just come out with her blood type? What her favourite movie was when she was five? Her DNA configuration? What more could they want from her? “No, he didn’t help me get the job. I have a Master’s in Financial Economics. I got the job all on my own.”

All three of the girls smiled on cue. “_Told_ you so!” the brunette said to the straight-blonde-hair girl. She turned her attention back towards Bee. “Sorry, it’s just that there was this _huge_ thing online about whether or not you quit school when you met Morgan or if you had just finished your program, and there was this whole thing that Sydney Esiason said in a comment on Insta but everyone thinks it’s about Cassie, and some girl claiming to be from your program was all like ‘We’re just done, Briony’s one of the top students in the course’ but someone else, also apparently from your program, was like ‘She quit the second she started going out with Mo because all she’s ever done is aspire to be a wag and all she used to talk about was bagging a Leafs player’ and it was all--”

“Please don’t believe everything you read on the Internet,” she interrupted. The girl hadn’t taken a breath since mentioning everything that was happening online – it seemed like she lived her entire life there. More shivers ran up Bee’s spine. To think someone in her program was engaged in this – that they even had the _time_ to engage in this – was beyond her. “I’m just a girl trying to work and I happen to have a professional athlete boyfriend. That’s all I am. There’s nothing special about me besides my Master’s degree.”

“Morgan definitely thinks there’s something special about her, and I do too,” Aryne’s voice interrupted their conversation as she made her way out of her stall. She looked over at the girls as she washed her hands; again, their jaws dropped at the sight of John Tavares’s wife. “You can write to all those bunny blogs and tell them Morgan’s never gonna get with them, so they need to stop,” she said, her voice strict. “You can also tell everyone that the DMs Bee gets are hilarious and pathetic all at the same time, and we laugh at them over bottles of sauvignon franc at restaurants those girls could only dream of eating in.”

The girls’ eyes went wide. “It’s not _us_\--”

“I know it’s not _you_. It’s all those Toronto party girls who like to cause shit and it’s the Instagram model girls who wouldn’t be able to get a contract with any legit agency if their life depended on it, but be the messenger,” Aryne winked, though her voice still strict and curt with them. “I don’t care what you say about me. Call me a bitch on every single bunny blog on the internet – I really don’t care. But anybody who goes after Bee is gong to have a problem with me.”

“Will do,” the brunette smiled, a feisty look in her eyes. “Are any of the younger Leafs single?”

Bee’s eyes went wide at the abrasiveness and audacity of the girl. Her friends slapped at her arm as she was in a staring contest with Aryne. “They’re not into jailbait. But I’m sure you’ll just go and befriend Cassie to see.” Aryne looked at Bee and grabbed her hand. “Let’s go. The period’s about to start and I want to _actually_ watch the game.”

Aryne linked her arm with Bee’s, and when they were far enough away from the washroom, she looked at her. “Don’t ever think that you need to speak to those types of girls ever again,” she warned. “They’re not worth your time. Everything you just said is going to go on all those bunny blogs.”

“You don’t think it will clear stuff up?” Bee asked innocently.

“It _never_ clears stuff up,” Aryne countered. “Rumours are still going to spread about you. Remember when we watched the Isles game at your place and I told you that you have your priorities in order?” she asked. Bee nodded her head. “You still do. But _keeping_ them in order is harder than having them in the first place. And _those_ girls…their only priority is either hooking up with a hockey player or making it seem like they’ve hooked up with one. And if they’re not trying to hook up, they want to make it seem like they’re inside their circle and friends with the wags. They don’t even have _morals_.”

Bee knew that she needed to listen to Aryne. She didn’t have a clue about any of this and she was so in over her head that she didn’t even know where to begin, what was right and what was wrong, what was appropriate and what was not. It was a mystery to navigate this minefield; every step she took, she felt like she was going to explode, or that she’d set off something that would get the sirens ringing and the armies rushing the battlefield. “Let’s go watch some hockey,” Bee announced, resolved to not giving it another thought. What was more important than what those girls told her was being spread online was that John was on the verge of a hat trick and Morgan was on the verge of approaching seventy points.

“Atta girl,” Aryne wiggled her eyebrows. “Now let’s go watch my hot husband dominate Florida.”

Dominate John did. Only six minutes into the second period, he completed his hat trick thanks to a rebound from a shot by Morgan. It rained hats in the arena as Bee, Alannah, Aryne, and John’s parents danced, cheered, high fived, and hugged each other in celebration, the cameras panning to them and showing them on the jumbotron for the fans to see. The assist by Morgan meant that he was on his 69th point, and Bee wanted so desperately for him to get 70.

Then the magic happened. Only four minutes into the third period, John scored a _fourth_ goal. Aryne went nuts, as did John’s parents, and rightfully so – it was his first four goal game for the Leafs. Barbara even began to cry as the fans kept roaring their applause for their hometown boy. Like a cherry on top of a perfect ice cream sundae of a Monday night, Zach scored the seventh goal for the Leafs, with an assist from Morgan, gaining Zach the distinction of being a 20-goal scorer and getting Morgan to a 70-point season. Bee teared up as she hugged Alannah after the goal. She knew he was having a career season, but he blew his previous points total out of the water – _by almost 20 points_.

After the game, Bee waited for Morgan in the usual spot, eagerly anticipating his arrival. Media was taking longer than normal – she figured because of the night John had. She checked the usual Twitter accounts for Sportsnet and TSN to see what they were saying and uploading onto their feeds. She checked her Instagram to see more DMs, but only read Angie’s who sent her a compilation video Sportsnet had uploaded of the group celebrating all four goals. Then, for the first time in her life, she Googled ‘puckbunny blogs tumblr’ to see if what those girls were saying – and what Aryne told her – was actually true. Automatically, what seemed like hundreds of links popped up for her to click on, and she clicked the very first. Right at the top of the feed, she saw her name.

_I met Bee McTavish (Morgan Rielly) at the Leafs game tonight in the washroom of all places lol. She’s a sweetheart. Super super nice. Doesn’t like that all her photos got posted everywhere bc she is trying to remain super private and says Morgan is super private too. She was in the washroom with Aryne (John Tavares wife) who was much ruder. Oh and she has a Master’s. Never quit her course when she met Morgan. It was all lies _ _J_ _ bye!_

** _Aw thanks anon! Good to know! We all knew Morgan would go for someone just like that! It’s too bad a lot of people won’t respect their wishes._ **

_Bee McTavish is bigger in person but pretty. Maybe it was the jersey. Saw her at the Leafs game tonight sitting with Aryne Tavares and John’s parents. Went crazy after Mo got his 70th point. I know Sportsnet showed her a bunch of times but she was on the jumbotron too after John’s fourth goal and it was really cute. Small applause bc the crowd recognized John’s parents and wife._

** _I guess Mo doesn’t mind her size anon. Thanks for the update! She must be really close with Aryne if she sat with her and John’s parents? Did she know them from before and that’s how she and Mo met?_ **

_Bee McTavish is lovely. Everybody needs to get off her dick. If you watch the videos from Sportsnet she’s so genuinely happy for Morgan and the team when they do well. Whenever I see her at games she’s one of like, the only wags – esp the young wags – who is always paying attention to the game instead of being on insta._

** _Thanks anon! Seems to go with what a lot of ppl are saying._ **

_Those people saying Bee is nice are probably her friends she’s sent to say stuff about her. She’s honestly not that nice. A TOTAL social climber. Pretends to be all cute and innocent but she’s been on the Toronto party scene for a while and was stalking Leaf players before she got with Mo. Rumour has it she slid into Auston’s DMs (what Toronto girl hasn’t lbr) and even Willy Nylander’s before she landed Mo. Shows how much of an idiot she is bc Willy wasn’t even in Toronto till December!!!!!_

** _Wow ok anon thank u!!!_ **

_Whoever sent in that last ask is so incredibly dumb lol yeah she’s a known Toronto party girl yet her whole instagram feed when she was public was books, her coursework from her Master’s, and food she’d cook??? Try doing ur research next time sweetie you sound so jealous! Ur probably trying to hook up with Mo even though he’s taken. Just makes u a slut. Not to mention a home wrecker._

** _I just post all my asks. Not necessarily what I believe._ **

Bee couldn’t help but snort as she swiped to delete the tab. There was _no_ way she was going down that rabbit hole. She stuffed her phone back into her pocket and waited impatiently for Morgan. When he finally came out, with John, Zach, and Tyler in tow, she couldn’t help the giant smile that appeared on her face as he walked towards her.

“You ready to go?” he said, extending his hand towards hers.

She grasped onto it tightly. “Come here.”

When he was close, she stood on her toes so she could reach him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders before giving him a long, lingering kiss. “You wanna talk about it?” she whispered.

“Talk about what?”

She smiled slightly. “Mr. Seventy-point season.” A smile crept upon his lips as he closed his eyes and shook his head – his version of _‘I don’t want to make a big deal out of it.’_ But Bee was going to make a big deal out of this. “I’m very proud of you,” she whispered quietly, so only he could hear. “I’m so, so proud of you.”

Morgan bent down to kiss her again. “That’s all that matters,” he whispered.

“What?”

“That you’re proud.”

“I’m always proud of you.”

“I know you are, but it’s especially important tonight.”

“Because you hit seventy points tonight?” she giggled.

“Stoooooppppp,” Morgan buried his head into the crook of her neck. “Stop saying it.”

“Stop saying what? That you hit seventy points this season?” she smirked, moving away slightly so she could look at him again

“Noooo no no no ,” he shook his head before bending down to kiss her again. “Is that the only way you’re gonna stop saying it?”

“Mhm,” she nodded her head.

“Am I gonna have to kiss you all night?”

“You tell me Mr. Rielly,” she pecked at his lips. “What do you mean ‘it’, anyway? Do you mean the fact that you got sev--”

He kissed her again, dragging her quickly towards the door. “I gotta get you home _quick_.”

*

“Okay, I can help carry all the garment bags down.”

“I’ll follow behind you with the box of handbags.”

“I’ve got the shoes.”

“Make sure all the books are taken. We may need to take two trips.”

“Naz, you can just sit there and look pretty.”

“HEY!” Naz yelled in protest to Morgan’s comment. John, Jake, Mason, and Tyler laughed at the scowl on Naz’s face as Ashley stuck her tongue out at the boys. “Are we forgetting these guns can b--”

“_Do not_ brag about how much you can bench press right now or else I’m going to punch you in the throat,” Jake grimaced. “Can we just move all this stuff to Morgan’s? Because the quicker we do so the quicker we can eat Chinese food.”

“Yes _please_, because baby’s hungry,” Aryne rubbed her belly.

The boys grabbed their designated boxes of Bee’s things to bring down the moving elevator, and the girls grabbed the various garment bags and made their way down the main elevator’s to Lucy and Aryne’s waiting SUVs in the parking garage. Once they loaded everything in, Bee and Angie drove with Lucy to Morgan’s apartment, while Ashley hitched a ride with Aryne. The boys ended up taking a second trip up to the apartment to get the remainder of Bee’s things before packing everything into Naz’s SUV and driving to Morgan’s apartment. They were lucky that Bee didn’t have a lot of things, comparably – no furniture to move, no giant ottomans or kitchen tools and accessories to pack away – just her half-bookshelf, taken from her old apartment, with its modest stack of books she’d added to sparingly during her time at Naz and Ashley’s apartment.

When the boys arrived at Morgan’s apartment, the girls were already rearranging the closet to incorporate Bee’s clothing. They shoved all his game-day suits to one side while they hung her work clothes on the top bar and her more casual clothes that still deserved a hanger on the bottom bar. Angie called out to Morgan that it was time to invest in another shoe rack where his Jordan’s collection wouldn’t take it over. Aryne was busy ordering the Chinese food. Ashley rearranged the bathroom drawers so all of Bee’s products could fit. The boys kept Bee’s bookshelf right next to the entertainment centre – he’d be buying bigger bookshelves soon, anyway. They decided to set the table while the girls continued to work on the closet behind the closed bedroom door.

“Did you consent to whatever’s going on in there?” Tyler asked as they all heard a loud thump coming from his bedroom. “They could be painting your room purple for all you know. They could be installing a Habs mural. A giant picture of Randy from Trailer Park Boys on your ceiling.”

Morgan shrugged his shoulders. Jake rolled his eyes. “Even if he didn’t, what’s he gonna say? She could paint the walls neon green and he’d nod and smile and say he loved it,” Jake said.

“Let’s not act like girls don’t run the world,” John commented with a chuckle. “Our wives definitely run our lives.”

“You got that right,” Naz piped up. “The other day Ashley had a craving for anchovies. _Anchovies_. Guess who had to go out to go buy _anchovies_ at midnight or else her brain was going to explode.”

“That’s why I remain a bachelor,” Tyler said. He turned dramatically towards Mason. “Unless you have a sister?”

“Only a brother, dude.”

“And I reiterate, _that’s_ why I remain a bachelor.”

Morgan’s phone buzzed, indicating that the Chinese food had been delivered. “You girls have three minutes until the food is here!” he yelled as he shoved his phone into his pocket. “Can you be a dear and come help me with the bags?” he asked Jake, who nodded his head. “And can you guys go check on them? Make sure they’re _actually_ not installing a picture of Randy on my ceiling or throwing out any of my clothes?”

When Morgan and Jake came through the door again with the Chinese food, everybody was out in the main area. Aryne was already sitting at the table while everyone else mingled about; Bee was grabbing something out of the fridge – probably a hot sauce – and Tyler and John were leaning up against the couch. Aryne saw them first and she began clapping when she saw the food. “It’s here!”

Everybody gathered around the table quickly. Bee helped herself to too much Cantonese chow mein. Everything was passed around – the chicken balls, the sweet and sour sauce, the chicken fried rice, the plain steamed rice, the spring rolls, the beef with broccoli, the kung pao shrimp and the Szechuan chicken. Everybody’s plate and glass was full of goodness. For a while everyone was even silent because they were stuffing food into their faces. It was Tyler who broke the silence. “Have you guys seen how well the Raptors are doing? Their post-season is gonna be amazing.”

Everybody nodded their heads. “Hopefully ours is gonna be equally as amazing,” Naz commented.

“You think we’ll be able to go to some games?” Aryne asked her husband.

“Aryne, are you aware of who your husband is?” Tyler asked, causing the table to laugh. “He’s John Tavares. He can walk into anywhere and get whatever he wants.”

“Raptors tickets are gonna be the hottest commodity in town if they do well,” Mason commented. “Good luck with that.”

“I’m sure Masai will hook up Kyle with _something_,” Naz said. “Besides, Bee’s gotta go to her first Raptor’s game.”

The mention of her name gave Bee an opportunity to look at everyone – _really_ look at all the people surrounding her – and she felt a pang of gratitude hit her chest. There was excitement, of course, of moving in with Morgan – of knowing that, when their friends were gone, she wouldn’t have an apartment to go back to; that this was _her_ apartment too now. There was thankfulness, of course, for everyone helping her to move her things, despite how little she had and how quickly it took them to do it – she barely needed to bribe them with a Chinese food dinner before they said yes to helping. But more than anything, gratitude. Gratitude for them surrounding her. Gratitude for their help and support.

Gratitude that they were her family.


	28. Chapter 27

The Boston Bruins were a team that the Toronto Maple Leafs had history with. That’s what Morgan told Bee before the playoffs. Besides them both being Original Six teams, there was a more recent history that intensified the rivalry. He told her about that fated game seven in 2013 – the one Leaf fans didn’t speak of; the one most remembered vividly but wanted so desperately to forget. He wasn’t on that team – he’d been drafted already, but he wasn’t playing for the Leafs – but Jake was. Jake didn’t like to talk about it. A lot of people liked to blame him for it, Morgan said, because he didn’t play well. Lots of turnovers. Morgan didn’t like to blame anybody, but it still haunted the team and fan base.

Then there was last year. Another game seven. Morgan took a Zdeno Chara shot to the face in the first period, splitting his lip open and having it swell; like a madman, Bee thought, he returned to the game in the second period. She saw the pictures of how much his lip had swelled. She watched the videos of the blood on the ice as he struggled to get up. He still had the scars from the stitches they gave him to sew the gash shut. She still couldn’t believe that was only three months before she met him. He said it hurt like hell, but he had to be out there for the team. They ended up losing 7-4. Another heartbreaker.

Now, another series with Boston loomed in their future. Morgan said it was going to be intense. This would be their chance for redemption – to atone for the mistakes and the sins of the past and to make it past the Bruins. He was ready. He knew they could do this. They had John now. And Auston. And Freddie. But it was going to be intense. There was going to be a lot of pressure on them. The entire city would be watching and waiting.

“So it isn’t just a game anymore?” Bee asked after Morgan finished telling her about their history.

“It’s _not_ just a game. Not to us. You have to realize that, okay? It’s not just a game to us, Bee.”

It was then when she understood. Sitting in his lap on the couch, listening to the way he spoke of how determined he was to be better, to play better; how determined he was to finally beat them, she understood this wasn’t just a game anymore. It was…_personal_. It was transformative. It was so much more than anything she could comprehend about hockey. After a year of learning, there was still so much. There was a whole other side of it that was do-or-die; that banked on every emotion you had. It made you abandon your confidence and your faith and made you lay it all on the ice.

“Whatever happens, Morgan, I want you to know that I love you and I’m proud of you,” she said, grazing her thumb along his lips lightly. “Whatever happens. You had an amazing season. You should be proud of yourself and what you accomplished.”

Morgan let out a sigh, savouring the feeling of her hands on his skin. In a few days, he’d be so encompassed with hockey that it would be hard to remember her touch. “I love you too Briony. And I’m sorry for anything that happens. Because you know how I can get in my own head a lot.”

She shook her head, leaning down to kiss him quickly. “I’m going to be here for you.”

“It might get bad, Briony.”

She shook her head again. “I’m gonna be here for you every step of the way. Win or lose. Bad game or not. I’m going to be here.” She nestled herself more into his body, giving him another kiss on his lips. “I’m always gonna be your Bumblebee Morgan. No matter what happens.”

*

“Alright ladies. First game of the playoffs,” Ashley said as she brought the last bowl of snacks to the couch, placing it on her lap. All the girls were at Ashley’s tonight – well, _most_ – Aryne, Lucy, Alannah, Steph, Madison, Kat, Monique, Penny, and Cassie surrounded Bee at Ashley’s place. It was, of course, Bee’s first playoff game, and she could feel the nervous energy emanating from many of the women around her. She sat in the middle of Aryne and Alannah on a couch; Aryne already snuggled into her as she linked her arm with Bee’s. Bee found herself unable to keep her eyes off the TV, even though it was barely the start of the game. She wanted to see Morgan every chance she got. He’d left the day before and she wouldn’t be able to see him until Sunday. Though he promised to call after every game, it wasn’t the same as physically being with him.

“Are you nervous?” Alannah asked.

Bee nodded her head. “I didn’t think I’d ever be this nervous about hockey,” she admitted.

“Welcome to the club,” Alannah shrugged. “If this is ever at my place I just put out pizza rolls. They help with the stress.”

Aryne looked over at them. “It’s going to be okay. It’s only game one. We know the boys can do this.”

When the puck dropped and the first period was underway, Bee’s stomach was in knots as she watched the boys skate around the ice. She thought they were playing well, that they were outplaying the Bruins, but she didn’t have enough confidence in herself, and _definitely_ not enough confidence in her hockey knowledge, to say that out loud. Patrice Bergeron opened the scoring for the Bruins almost ten minutes into the period, but Mitch responded by the end and it was tied 1-1.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you blink since we started watching. You can’t be this nervous all the time,” Lucy said during the first intermission as Bee sipped on her water. Ashley had screamed that she “almost forgot about the jackets”, whatever that meant, and half the girls apparently had to help her. “Trust me. I’ve been through quite a few playoff games. You’re gonna age yourself by thirty years.”

“I think that’s impossible,” Bee tried to make a joke. “Before he left Morgan told me about the history between them and the Bruins. I don’t think I’m going to sleep well for the next two weeks.”

“Well hopefully it won’t last two weeks,” Lucy winked. “The goal is to sweep them in four games.”

“_OHMYGOD_ these jackets are _SO. FREAKING. ADORABLE_,” Steph’s voice squealed from the other room, interrupting their conversation. The girls looked as she came running into the family room with a blue and white jacket in the classic Roots award jacket style. She was modelling it for the girls dramatically, doing silly poses as they oohed and awed over it, until the rest of the girls came running with their own jackets on and another in their hands, modelling dramatically like Steph. Why were there so many? Bee looked carefully to see the details on the jacket as the other girls got up to investigate. There seemed to be two flags on one arm and something else on the other, but Steph was moving too fast. The only thing she _did_ notice was a giant Maple Leafs logo on the back.

“These are _epic_,” Kat had a giant smile on her face as she held up the jacket to get a closer look. “Oh my _God_, I can’t believe how good they turned out. We’re going to blow everyone else out of the water with these.”

“Who came up with the Roots idea?! We need to buy her cake.”

“It was Christina!”

“Christina’s getting cake!”

Bee watched as Steph, Ashley, and Madison began _handing out_ these jackets to the girls – jackets that cost over $500 in store. Again, _why were there so many_? Bee looked on skeptically as they each looked at the arm patches and put them on before starting to pose with each other and squeal at how amazing they looked. She watched as Madison took a Boomerang of Steph blowing a kiss in the jacket; as Steph then took a Boomerang of Madison with it making her own kissy face.

“Here babe,” Ashley’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts. She stood beside Bee holding a jacket up to her, eager for her to take it. “This one’s yours.”

“_Mine_?” she asked, furrowing her brows. “Ash…um…” she looked around quickly to make sure nobody was watching or listening to her before she asked what was surely an asinine question for Ashley to have to answer. “What is it?”

“It’s our playoff jacket for this year!”

“Our what?” Bee asked. She felt so dumb. “What’s a playoff jacket?”

“So every year during the playoffs, the wives and the girlfriends get together and create jackets that they wear during home games…and technically any road games if they go to them,” Ashley explained without hesitation. “So this year, Christina had an idea to order them from Roots, since they’re like, the quintessential Canadian company.”

“And I get one?”

Ashley rolled her eyes. “_Of course_ you get one. You’re with Morgan, aren’t you? We wear them to show our support for our boys. So, you seen mine?” she asked, turning slightly so Bee could see one of the arm patches. It was two crossed flags – a Canadian flag and a Brazilian flag – but instead of being on poles, they were on hockey sticks. “This represents Naz and I. Brazil and Canada, right? And _this_ one,” she turned again, showing Bee her other arm which displayed a patch with a stitched ‘_Kadri’_ across it, “shows everyone who I’m there supporting.”

The wheels clicked in Bee’s brain. “So that means…” she said, grabbing the jacket from Ashley’s hands and holding it in front of her. One the one arm, the two crossed flags on hockey sticks showed both the iconic red maple leaf. On the other arm, the blue patch with the name _‘Rielly’_ stitched neatly in white. On the back, the giant Maple Leafs logo she saw before. A smile couldn’t help but creep its way onto her face. “That’s…that’s really cool,” she said, under her breath.

“Isn’t it? _So_ much better than a jean jacket,” Ashley giggled. “So when we go to the games on Monday and Wednesday, you know what you’re wearing.”

“Is this just a Leaf thing or is it, like, a league thing?”

“It’s become a league thing now. I don’t even know who started it. But I’ve got a closet full of these things. They’re great memories.”

Everyone settled back into their seats for the second period. The girls got more excited when Mitch scored again, this time unassisted, and Willy followed him later into the period. Everybody was more confident that they were up 3-1, and Bee began to release the breath she was holding in. By the end of the game, John had scored the fourth goal, leading the Leafs to a decisive 4-1 victory. They were up 1-0 in the series. Bee knew it was only one game, but she was happy. She knew Morgan would be happy too.

“Remember, Alannah is hosting Saturday at her parent’s house in Forest Hill,” Aryne said as she parked in front of Bee and Morgan’s apartment to drop her off. “The game starts at 8:00 but everyone is going to get there for 7:30.”

“I’ll be able to meet you there,” Bee nodded as she unbuckled her seatbelt. “I know you’re going to be at your parents’ place all day so I’ll just take an Uber.”

“Okay, cool. But I’ll still drive you home,” Aryne said, leaning in to hug her. “See ya later babe. Love you.”

“Love you too Aryne. See you Saturday,” Bee waved as she hopped out of the car, making a beeline towards the front doors.

Once Bee was back in the apartment, settled in and with her pajamas on, she called Morgan. She figured they would be back at the hotel by now, and they promised they would call one another after every game. When he answered on only the second ring, she knew his phone must have been near and he was waiting for the phone call. “Hey Bumblebee,” he answered immediately.

“Hey baby,” she cooed into the phone as she lay down in bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Feeling pretty good actually. Tired, but good,” he confessed.

“You played awesome tonight,” she said. “The whole team did. I know that might not mean anything coming from me but I thought you all played really well.”

“That actually means a lot coming from you, so thanks baby,” he said. “How was tonight with the girls?”

“It was really fun,” she began. “They uh…or should I say _we_ got these playoff jacket things--”

“Oh, the ones from Roots?”

Bee couldn’t help but laugh. “How did you know about these things but I didn’t? But yeah, the ones from Roots. They look amazing. They’ve got a giant Maple Leafs logo on the back and a crossed flags patch and a patch with your name on it.”

“Can you send me a picture?”

Bee couldn’t help but smirk at his request. “Yeah, sure.”

“_Hiiiiiiiii_ Briony,” Jake’s voice could be heard calling into the phone. There was a bit of shuffling, inaudible voices, and a loud thump before Bee heard Morgan’s muffled _‘Get the fuck outta here!’_ and Jake’s _‘It’s my room too asshole!’_. Bee couldn’t help but snort at the two men and how much they sounded like a married couple.

“Sorry, Jake’s back from talking to Lucy,” Morgan said.

“Tell Jake if he calls me Briony ever again I’m gonna kick him where it hurts.”

“Oh, you can do that just because. You don’t need a reason.”

She snorted again. “I’ll let you go. Get a good night’s sleep, okay? I love you.”

“I love you too Bumblebee. Goodnight.”

When she hung up the phone, she got out of the bed and walked towards the jacket hanging on the back of the bedroom door. She hadn’t tried it on at Ashley’s house – instead, opting to just watch as the girls took pictures and posed in theirs – because she was too nervous to. She didn’t know who did the ordering, if it was Christina or whoever else, and she assumed Ashley or Aryne wanted to keep it a surprise for her seeing as it was her first one. That was all well and nice, but…she wasn’t asked about sizing. Bee was acutely aware that by the colour of the hair on her head alone she wasn’t exactly like the rest of the group. She was acutely aware every time a fangirl in a DM called her fat or told her she needed to do yoga. She was acutely aware because she remembered how the inner thigh of her cheap pants used to wear out before she started buying better clothes. She didn’t want to be reminded of how different she was if this jacket was too small. Everyone else probably only needed smalls or extra-smalls – hell, even extra-extra-smalls. But not her.

She gulped and closed her eyes as she took it off the hanger and slid an arm inside, then both arms, before pulling it up. After some adjusting to feel as comfortable as she could in it, she opened her eyes to look at herself in the mirror. It fit. The arms looked fine. No material was tugging anywhere, even though her arms definitely filled out the sleeves. She wouldn’t be able to close it, but she didn’t think she would have to anyway. It wasn’t like she was going to wear this out anywhere besides games. She felt relief wash over her as she sighed, still looking at herself in the mirror.

It fit. She fit.

She grabbed at her phone and posed for a picture for Morgan, not even caring that she was in her pajamas with no bra and this jacket on her just so he could see it. She sent it quickly to him before taking it off, hanging it back on its hanger, and climbing into bed again. By the time she looked at her phone again, he’d already sent two messages back.

_You look beautiful. Can’t wait to see you in it._

_Love you Bumblebee._

*

Bee tried to kill time in the local Shopper’s Drug Mart because, thanks to the TTC actually operating well and on time, she got to Forest Hill _way_ too early to be knocking on Alannah’s door. Her time anxiety meant she always had to be early for everything, but she thought being an hour early was a bit extra. Instead, she decided to sample every matte lip stain in the store before buying one. Even then, she still had a lot of time to spare, so she took a stroll through Forest Hill, the area that Zach and Alannah both grew up in, where Alannah still lived until she moved in with Zach after their marriage this summer.

Forest Hill was one of the most affluent areas of Toronto. Large, stately manor homes, kept in pristine condition from when they were first built, filled the tree-lined streets that were so quiet you wouldn’t know you were sandwiched between two major streets – Eglinton Avenue West and St. Clair Avenue West. Some of the best public and private elementary and high schools in the entire country were at residents’ disposal. Everybody dreamt of living here – at least Bee did. But houses here went for millions upon millions of dollars, and unless you were “old money” rich or had deep pockets thanks to “new money”, you couldn’t even afford a parking spot on the street. It was a pipe dream – far from her aspirations of a modest bungalow in North York – but it was a dream nonetheless; something she would think about in her past when she would slave away at all hours of the night on essays or assignments, refining her resume so it would get the attention of bosses at Big Five banks. Mark Travers lived here, on Warren Road, a few blocks south of where she was now. She wondered what it would be like to live here; to be able to walk to the shops on Eglinton, St. Clair, or even the shops in Forest Hill Village; to be able to jog or bike through the picturesque Kay Gardner Beltline Trail whenever she wanted to. It was a life very, _very_ few people were lucky to call their own.

But for Zach and Alannah, this was their _home_. They had grown up on these streets with their families. Zach’s parents still lived here, too. Bee guessed that there was nothing special about Forest Hill to them, like there was to her, because they grew up here. The massive houses, the pristine front lawns and flowers planted by professional gardeners, the Range Rovers or Benzes or 7-series Audis in practically every driveway didn’t astonish them like it did Bee.

As Bee made her way towards Killarney Road, where Alannah’s parents house was, she took Dunvegan Road, completely enamoured by the houses on the street – so much so that she slowed down her pace so she could get a good look at all of them. Traditional Tudor-style houses, fancy new-builds that looked like castles, classic Edwardian architecture with bay windows – she loved them all. She couldn’t pick a favourite.

She even happened upon a for sale sign in front of 220 Dunvegan Road. A traditional Georgian style house, with red brick and black shutters and white detailing on the windowpanes. It was stunning. Gorgeous. Who would ever want to sell this? _Why_ would someone want to sell this? What could be better? She stood in front of the house and admired its architectural details before noticing there was a little box at the top of the ‘for sale’ sign, holding all the MLS listing sheets. She took one out and read what it had to say, just because she was curious.

_This home is on one of Forest Hill’s most coveted streets. 5+2 bedroom, 5-bathroom, 5000+ sq ft of living space. Walking distance to UCC, BSS, FHCI, and other schools + new crosstown Eglinton LRT. Handsome Georgian exterior. Centre hall style w/ graciously proportioned rooms. Original stained glass windows in most rooms. Doors opening to garden big enough for a pool. Spectacularly landscaped mature garden w/tall hedges for privacy. Home has been maintained by only two owners in its history (built in 1920s). Lovingly restore, renovate, or build your dream house on this 55x155 lot._

_Presented for sale at $2,375,000._

Bee snorted sarcastically at the price tag. Holy moly. Almost two and a half million dollars for a home that, judging by the description, was a fixer-upper inside. Two and a half million dollars to live in a fixer upper in Forest Hill. _God,_ it _was_ gorgeous though. If she had the money, who’s to say she wouldn’t be stupid and actually do it? She pictured Zach and his four brothers playing hockey in the front driveway, taking slapshots to the thighs or face. She pictured Alannah and her sisters running from the front door to their parents’ waiting car for swimming practice or piano practice or whatever practice they had. She pictured the driveway filled with cars of guests for dinner parties, Christmas parties, Hanukkah parties – what have you – bringing the house so much warmth and joy, really transforming it into a _home_.

The sound of her phone ringing snapped her out of her thoughts as she say Alannah’s name flash across the screen. “Hello?”

“Hey! Where are you? Everyone’s almost here. Do you need one of us to come pick you up from the station or is your Uber stuck in traffic?”

Bee looked down at her watch. For all her daydreaming and slowed down pace, she hadn’t even noticed the time – 7:55. She started running down the street. “No, I’m good,” she said, crumpling the listing sheet and shoving it into her purse. “I’m literally two minutes away. I’ll see you soon.”

*

“What the fuck?! _What the fuck?!_” the girls began to scream at the TV. The fans were jeering and making it hard for Bee to understand what was happening, and the announcers weren’t making it any better – not that you could really hear them over the fans. All she could see was Naz on the screen arguing with a referee and before she knew it, he was getting ejected.

Her heart sank into the pit of her stomach. Judging by the reaction of everyone around her, this wasn’t good. “What’s going on?” she asked Lucy nervously.

“Naz is getting a game misconduct for that crosscheck against DeBrusk,” she explained, not taking her eyes off the screen. “They’re throwing him out of the game.”

“They can go after our guys the entire night but the second someone retaliates and sticks up for a teammate they call a game misconduct?! What a bunch of fucking bullshit!” Aryne screamed.

“These refs are fucking horrible! _Horrible!_ They’re so biased it’s insane! We have to be practically fucking _dead_ for them to call a penalty against the Bruins!” Alannah fumed.

“DeBrusk hit Kadri knee on knee before and _no fucking call!_ But of course they call _this!”_ Aryne yelled again.

Bee looked at Ashley and Ashley only. She sat stoic and emotionless in her seat on the couch, but her knuckles were white as she gripped on the material of her jeans. She didn’t take her eyes off the TV either, despite all the yelling around her. Bee watched her until Ashley couldn’t take it anymore, ripping her eyes away from the screen, looking down at her lap and placing her hands on her swollen belly.

“Are you alright, Ash?” Bee asked.

Ashley looked over at her, unemotional. “I’m fine,” she shrugged her shoulders. “Naz gets hot during these types of games. I’m gonna try to call him,” she said, getting up from the couch and walking towards another room.

Bee followed Ashley’s path while the other girls continued to scream at the TV. When she looked back, the camera was panning to the Leafs bench. Nobody looked happy.

*

Bee kept an eye on Morgan as he was glued to his phone. Having arrived back in Toronto around ten that morning, he was still a bit in a sour mood from the game the night before. She guessed he was communicating with his teammates about the Naz situation. Bee had learned that he was suspended the year before for something similar. When the Leafs lost the series, a lot of people blamed it on Naz’s hot temper – he was a crucial centre and the team needed him. To see history repeat itself with Naz’s hot temper…she didn’t know what the think. She wasn’t there last year.

“Lunch is ready, baby,” Bee said in a soft voice as she brought their bowls, filled with maple glazed chicken thighs and quinoa, towards the couch and set them on the coffee table. Morgan barely budged as she sat next to him, letting out a long sigh before finally locking his phone. “C’mon babe,” she said, rubbing his back, moving closer to him. “You gotta eat.”

“He’s gonna have a disciplinary hearing tomorrow,” Morgan said, leaning back on the couch.

“Naz?” Bee asked as she leaned forward to grab their bowls. Morgan nodded his head as he took his bowl from her. “Is it going to be the same place you went to give your statement?”

Morgan shook his head. “It’s in New York. They’re offering for him to be there in person. Naz is gonna go. So is Shanny.”

“So we’re just gonna have to wait and see?”

Morgan nodded his head. “Unfortunately. But if it’s in New York and it’s tomorrow, when we have a game? I don’t know. I don’t think it’s gonna be good.”

Bee watched Morgan. He was eating his food, but his mind was somewhere else. With the series tied 1-1 now, and with Morgan’s role as an alternate captain for the team, she knew he was thinking of ways the team could bounce back after such an awful game. She wished he could give his brain a rest but she knew that right now – and for however long this series was going to last – that wouldn’t be possible. It wouldn’t be possible however long the _playoffs_ lasted. “We’ll have to keep our hopes up,” she said, digging into her own plate of food. “Maybe they’ll see how biased the referees were that night with their blatant non-calls, especially the knee-on-knee and DeBrusk’s hit on Marleau, and they’ll surprise us.”

Morgan couldn’t help but smile at Bee’s words. It was the most adorable thing in the world to listen to her talk about hockey, and he didn’t mean it in a patronizing way. She was genuinely adorable, because from the way she spoke about it – especially game two – it was like she believed there was a conspiracy against the Leafs. He’d have to make sure she wasn’t reading too many online blogs or listening to nut-job talk radio shows to get her information. “You tell ‘em, Bumblebee. Maybe we should get you in the room with Naz and Shanny.”

“I could take them,” she wiggled her eyebrows.

When they were done with their lunch, Morgan set their bowls on the coffee table before wrapping his arms around Bee and pulling her close to him. He nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck, laying soft kisses there before moving to kiss her on her lips. He kissed her a few more times before looking her in the eyes. “When this is all over I’m gonna take you to Gucci and buy you everything in the store.”

Bee snorted at the statement. “What?”

“I’m serious.”

She shook her head. She knew that he wanted to spoil her constantly. She knew that the whole _‘But you deserve it’_ mentality was still there for him, since the break-in and him paying for everything. She knew she wouldn’t be able to change his mind. “Why don’t you let _me_ choose where you get to take me, huh?”

He smiled. “Deal.”


	29. Chapter 28

_Lmao wow. So official with ur jacket in the wag group pic. Bet u begged the other wags for a jacket and to be in the pic._

_You look really cute in your jacket! I think you’d look better if you were maybe Steph or Madison’s size though! Other than that, super cute!_

_OMG you are honestly the most desperate person in the city of Toronto_

_pls pls pls how can I become a wag_

_can u give Auston my number 416 555 0123_

_So…how’s Scotiabank treating you?_

_For the love of God, sign up for a yoga class girl. Pilates. Start jogging. Something. Nothing about your body is flattering. You can’t tell me Morgan likes all that flab. You were always a calf but you’ve been a cow since Christmas._

_You want to make it seem like you’re ‘part of the group’ of WAGs but we can all tell you’re not. They include you to be nice but in reality, they probably don’t even speak to you outside of the arena. To think you are isolating Morgan from his friends and teammates – and for what? So you can have a WAG jacket one year? So you can flaunt in front of everyone? Morgan would be so much better off with someone who doesn’t leech off of him and who doesn’t reek of desperation. _

*

Bee didn’t know how she survived all the way up to game six. It was a back and forth between the Leafs and the Bruins and she didn’t know how she was going to handle this game, with the Leafs being able to eliminate the Bruins if they won. The Leafs won game three, even though at 6:15pm that same Monday, it came down that Naz had been suspended for the rest of the series – however long that was. The boys were angry, but they tried not to let it show. That Wednesday, they lost 6-4. Morgan got two assists that night but they still couldn’t capitalize. In Boston for game five, the Leafs won 2-1, with Morgan getting another assist on Kappy’s goal. Now, with game six about to start, she was jittery. She even felt hot in the jacket but couldn’t bear to take it off.

She was praying for an Easter miracle.

Once everyone settled back into their seats after the singing of the anthems by Martina, her leg couldn’t stop bobbing up and down. It was Aryne who had to lay her hand on Bee’s thigh to get her to stop. “Are you nervous or something?” she asked sarcastically.

“How have you done this for almost ten years?” Bee asked. “I don’t know if I can handle it.”

“You’re going to be okay. You get used to it,” Aryne said. “Besides, this is actually only the fourth time John’s made the playoffs.”

“What? Really?”

Aryne nodded her head. “When we went to Sochi it was much more nerve-wracking. But that’s besides the point. You need to calm down.”

“So if they win this, they face the Columbus Blue Jackets, because the Blue Jackets swept the Tampa Bay Lightning,” Bee listed off, remembering the look of the bracket in her head.

“Exactly.”

“Could we beat the Blue Jackets? Like in a series?”

“In a heartbeat.”

Bee’s chest tightened. “So…like…we could really do this.”

Aryne nodded her head. “Really really. But we can’t think about that right now. We need to focus on beating the Bruins.”

Morgan opened the scoring. It happened about ten minutes into the first period, a one timer from the blue line thanks to Willy keeping it in the Bruins zone, and Bee erupted from her seat with the crowd to scream and cheer for him, even high-fiving a man and his son who were seated in front of her. She looked up at the jumbrotron to see him fist-bumping with the bench before they replayed the goal. Her heart fluttered in her chest knowing that he had opened the scoring in such a big game, motivating the rest of the team.

That didn’t last long though. Brad Marchand scored less than two minutes later, and another goal by Krug ended the first period. DeBrusk, still playing even though there were rumours that he had a concussion, scored in the second period. Auston scored in the third period and tried to rally the team to tie it. Late in the game, Morgan and Jake DeBrusk got into a little…scuffle on the ice, and DeBrusk pushed Morgan’s helmet off. There was an exchange of words, a little pushing and shoving, and Bee couldn’t bear it.

“PUNCH HIM IN THE FACE!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, surprising even herself at the ferocity and volume of her demand. She stood up in her seat to watch the aftermath and the replays on the jumbotron. _Surely_ an opponent pulling off the helmet of another player would result in a penalty? “WHAT FUCKING BULLSHIT!” she screamed at the top of her lungs again.

“Bee, there are children present,” Aryne grabbed her hand.

“FUCK YOU DEBRUSK!” she shouted one more time before sitting down, huffing and puffing in anger as they showed a replay yet again. “I guess game two let us all know the Bruins can do whatever the fuck they want and get away with it!” she said loudly, but not as loud as before. She looked at Aryne. “Can you believe this?!”

“Yes Bee, it’s game six of the playoffs,” she giggled slightly. “This is the most I’ve seen you get riled up about hockey _ever_. I think Mo needs to start getting more physical more often,” she wiggled her eyebrows.

Bee snorted. If only Aryne knew. “I just…nobody’s allowed to touch him. _Nobody_. I’ll deal with them myself if I have to.”

Unfortunately, the Leafs couldn’t capitalize and Brad Marchand scored again. The final was 4-2. They’d be going back to Boston.

Another game 7.

Bee could see the looks on everyone’s faces as the buzzer rang to signal the end of the game. The girls who had been through this before – Alannah, Lucy, Madison, and others – were not smiling. At all. There was a look of worry mixed with dread on their faces. As fans filed out of the arena, the girls all sat in their places, staring at each other. Nobody got up – Bee didn’t think anyone had the strength to. There was always a lot of media after the games, anyway, so there was no point in leaving when the fans did.

Aryne, forever the optimist, saw the look on Bee’s face. “They can do this, Bee. I know they can,” she said. “We need to stay positive.”

“I know they _can_. The question is if they _will_,” Bee mused. “What if they get those awful referees from game two again?”

“They won’t. The NHL will never let them officiate another game again, they were so bad. We need to stay positive. They have all the tools they need. They can beat the Bruins.”

Bee wished she could be as positive.

*

Morgan wasn’t a man of many words when he came out of the locker room. He gave Bee a kiss and said goodbye to everyone before they descended down to the parking garage. Rocco and Clarette had invited them over for an Easter dinner, and that’s where they were supposed to be headed. But Bee could see the dejected look on Morgan’s face and the bags under his eyes. She knew he would probably rather just go home. She knew he was tired, aching, that he now had a flight to catch tomorrow to go into enemy territory.

As they got into the car, she looked over at him and put her hand over his. “I can call Clarette and tell her you’re tired if you want to go home,” Bee said softly. “They’ve been watching. They’ll understand.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Morgan, come on,” she said. “If you want to just go home we can go home. Or I can take the subway up myself and you can go and rest.”

“No no no,” he said, flipping over his hand to hold hers and bring it to his lips to kiss. “We promised them we’d be there for Easter dinner. Clarette’s probably made four different courses. We’re going. I’m okay.”

“_Morgan_.”

“Briony, I want to take my mind off of hockey right now,” he said, his voice sombre, firm, and resolved. “I want to be around family.”

She couldn’t protest. Not when she heard the tone of his voice, not as he cradled her hand in his against his chest, not as he looked at her with his blue eyes. She couldn’t do it. “Promise me you’ll tell me you want to go _the second_ you want to? Don’t feel obligated to stay longer.”

“I will Bumblebee. I promise,” he said, kissing her hand one last time before pulling out of the parking spot.

When they arrived, it was Rocco who opened the door to greet them. “Mr. Goal Scorer tonight!” he beamed as he hugged Morgan. “Great goal tonight!”

“Thank you,” Morgan smiled.

“And you!” Rocco turned his attention to Bee. “That jacket looks great!” She spun around so he could see the giant Maple Leafs logo on the back and he oohed and awed at it. “Can I buy one too?”

Bee giggled as she showed him the ‘Rielly’ patch on her arm. “You have to start dating Morgan to get one.”

“He’s handsome. That could happen.”

They broke out into a fit of laughter as Sarah Jessica Barker came running towards them, bringing with her Angie, Mason, and Joshua. Morgan bent down to pet her and coo at her while Angie, Mason, and Josh looked on with amused expressions on their faces. “Sorry about the game,” Angie said as Sarah Jessica Barker had enough of Morgan and moved on to Bee.

“What are we having for dinner?” Morgan asked. His way of letting her know he didn’t want to talk about it. Angie got the hint. So did everyone else.

“We’re Italian. We have lamb on Easter,” Rocco informed him.

“We’re also French-Canadian,” Clarette piped up from the kitchen. Morgan couldn’t help but laugh. “We are _also_ French-Canadian and have butter tarts to offset the Italian lamb.”

“That’s what I like to hear, Clarette! Dessert!” Morgan called out to her as she appeared from the kitchen. “I’m sorry we had to push this back so late because of me.”

“Late? What late? It’s barely 7. _Italians_ have dinner at 9pm,” she said, side-eyeing her husband. “But everything _is_ ready, so everyone should go sit at the table.”

*

_pls tell ur boyfriend the next game is kind of important and if he could step it up that would be nice_

_lemme guess…ur going to boston on mo’s dime for game 7? U have a job yet u never work. So lazy._

_No matter how hard you try you will never be as pretty as Steph or Cassie. Don’t know why you think you are. Don’t bother. _

_You know all the other girls are talking about you behind your back, right? Word on the street is you’re the most desperate social climber ever, and when the playoffs are over, you’ll be gone too. On to the next hockey player, slut._

*

Bee didn’t have anymore nail polish on. She had peeled off her shellac from sheer anxiety. Going into the second period, the Bruins were up 2-0, and then John had scored thanks to an assist from Tyler. Going into the third, it was 2-1. The boys could do this. They could do this. _They could do this_.

Bee decided against getting together with any of the girls. She was too nervous and she didn’t want any of them to see just how worried, panicky, and jumpy she was. She was alone in the apartment and, honestly, right now, she preferred it that way. She could yell at the TV without anyone looking at her. She could yell stupid stuff, stuff that probably didn’t even make sense, and nobody would say anything. She could cry in peace if she wanted to. She also knew that, regardless of the outcome, the boys would be on a flight after the game, coming home in the middle of the night. She wanted to be home for Morgan. Regardless of the outcome.

When the third period started Bee was optimistic. But less than three minutes in, Sean Kuraly scored. 3-1. The boys could still do this. They could come back.

Then Charlie Coyle scored near the end. 4-1. Bee’s chest tightened. That was what the score was during that awful game seven in 2013 before the Bruins came back. Maybe the boys could do the same, with much, _much_ less time.

Patrice Bergeron. An empty-netter. 5-1. The Bruins fans went wild. A waterfall of tears streamed down Bee’s cheeks.

The Toronto Maple Leafs had been eliminated from the playoffs.

Despite her sadness and despite her pain, she kept the TV on. The stupid panellists with their stupid opinions provided background noise for her tears, but she didn’t listen to anything they had to say. Why would she when they were trashing Fred, saying he was incapable of being a “game seven goalie”, whatever the fuck that meant, when just two weeks earlier they were calling him the best goaltender in the world? Why would she when all they did was go over every single little thing the Leafs did wrong? Why would she listen to them completely tear apart and break down a team they all relied on for their hefty paycheques? She wasn’t stupid – she knew how sports media worked. She knew the Leafs provided rating and that their ratings were through the roof because of this – they’d probably be getting some nice bonus cheques. They were all feckless – all of them. They changed their opinions on the fly, whenever it suited them, whenever it got them more ratings and more viewers who ended up adopting their shit opinions. ‘_Experts my ass’_ Bee thought. Especially that Nik Kypreos guy. What an idiot.

And then Morgan appeared on the screen.

She wanted to scream. Were they _actually_ interviewing him right now? _Really_?! Not even two minutes after the end of the game and they had paraded him out of the locker room into some hallway to answer asinine questions about another heartbreaking game seven? ‘_LET THEM GRIEVE!’_ she wanted to shout. _‘LET THEM FUCKING GRIEVE!’_ But no. Apparently that was impossible. They wanted every sound bite they could get just so they could talk about it for fifteen minutes afterwards. Because they Leafs were money. That’s all they were to these people – sound bites and ratings and _money_. They weren’t just hockey players dejected after a loss; they weren’t men who put everything they had into the game, into the entire series, into the entire _season_; worse yet, they weren’t human beings with complex emotions who didn’t want microphones and cameras shoved in their faces as they dealt with the insurmountable fact that they had let an entire city down. _Money_.

She looked at him and how dejected he looked, how heavy his breathing was underneath all his gear. She wanted to shatter every plate in their kitchen against a wall in anger. When he was finally released and went back to the locker room, she shed more tears. God knows how many reporters would be waiting for them in there, too.

She just wanted him home. _God_, all she wanted was for him to come home.

*

When Bee heard the door unlock at almost 2am, she jumped off the couch but stood stoic in her place. She watched as Morgan pushed open the door, lugging himself into his apartment, letting the door close behind him. The first thing he looked for was her. She was all he wanted to see.

“Baby…” she mumbled, running over to him. “Baby, baby, come here.”

She grabbed on and attached herself to him like he was going to float away. He immediately wrapped his arms around her, burying his face into her neck. He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around him tightly. Almost absent-mindedly, he walked them over to their bedroom before collapsing on the bed. He didn’t let go. She felt tears on her neck as they lay there, wrapped into each other, and she began running her fingers through his hair and playing with the tufts of hair at the base of his neck, knowing it was soothing for him. It was all she could do; all she _knew_ she could do. There wasn’t anything she could say that would make him feel better. There were no words for this. No words besides “I love you,” which she whispered to him over and over again, for however long she needed to.

*

“We couldn’t do it.”

That’s what Morgan kept repeating.

“We couldn’t do it.”

Bee couldn’t rewrite history. “You couldn’t do it _now_. But you can and you will. One day.” It was all she could offer.

“We couldn’t do it.”

*

Bee had pre-emptively taken the day off. She didn’t need to worry about work and, quite frankly, didn’t exactly want to right now. She got a text from Mark early that morning. _Tell Morgan we were rooting for him all the way. We’re proud of him. He’s one of the only guys who showed up to play the game the entire series._

Bee read the text out to him. He said nothing.

*

Bee only left the bed to make him breakfast – some Greek yogurt with an organic granola mix and some fresh raspberries and sliced bananas. When she brought it to him, still in bed, she saw he was in and out of sleep. She could only imagine he was trying to survive on his last legs of energy by this point. She placed the bowl on the side table before helping him out of his clothes so he could at least be comfortable in his sleep. He moved around absent-mindedly to help her, but she knew he wasn’t there. He probably thought he was hallucinating. When she was finished, she cupped his face in the palm of her hand gently. She’d put the granola mix in the fridge to eat later.

“Y’know what?” he mumbled out suddenly, barely audible or understandable through his fatigue, his eyes cracking open only slightly to look at her.

“What?”

“I wanna take care’f you.”

Bee didn’t understand what he meant. She thought for sure he was dreaming already and in some form of sleep paralysis or lucid dreaming. “What are you talking about?”

“I wanna give you s’much you c’n quit your job n’do s’mthin’ you really love. Cause I love you.”

Bee was completely still as the words escaped his mouth. Before she could come back to, or say anything, she heard his soft snores.

*

It was a few days until Morgan returned to his normal self. Well, semi-normal.

The locker clear out was scheduled for Saturday, April 27th, and because they were leeches who didn’t know when to stop sucking the life out of something, the media was expected there. Mike Babcock would hold a press conference. The summer rumour mill began of who was staying and who was not; who was going to earn these many millions here and who was going to earn those many millions somewhere else. Morgan spoke to the media, as he always did. Off-camera they asked about what he would get up to the entire summer over in Vancouver, since naturally he’d go home. _‘Lots of golfing, probably,’_ he’d answered. _‘Dad’s birthday at the beginning of June. Long walks with Maggie where she gets to swim – she loved swimming. She’s queen of the ocean, too. Lots of poolside days. Good wine on the deck. Back to Toronto for the Pride Parade. Fishing trips too, as always. But mostly just stick around home.’_

Of course Morgan would go home. He deserved more than anybody to go home to his family, to take in the fresh air of the B.C. coast and rejuvenate himself. He deserved to relax; to kick his feet up and sleep with Maggie in his lap; to take the boat out to Gibsons for oysters or to chase pods of whales again. He deserved to go fishing. Go golfing. Do anything he wanted to do. Isolate himself from the outside world, from hockey. Live through summer on _his_ rules, how _he_ wanted to.

She just wondered how their life in Toronto factored into that.

It was a long flight, from Toronto to Vancouver, and Morgan was meant to relax. She didn’t want him to feel obligated to do anything he didn’t want to do. They had events that they needed to attend together, sure – like Zach’s wedding at the end of June – but she wondered how all that would factor into him taking time for himself. She knew they would work it out, like they always did, but it was four months of summer that needed to be accounted for and planned. There was only so much time she could take off at work – they both knew that. So she’d have to stay in Toronto. She wondered if his schedule would be like how she assumed last summer’s was, when she met him. A bit of time here, a bit of time there, a bit of time anywhere he wanted to be.

When the locker clean out was all said and done, Bee and Morgan sat together in their apartment, her legs draped over his. It was all she thought about on the way home. Since the reporter had asked the question. “What are we going to do this summer?”

“Well, we have Zach’s wedding and--”

“You deserve to go home,” Bee blurted out. She was trying desperately not to let her tears fall. Being without him for long stretches of time was going to be hard – just like it was during the season – but he needed it more than anything. “You deserve to go home and relax for a bit. You’ve had a tough year outside of hockey, too.”

She watched as his brows furrowed at her words. “What was so tough outside of hockey?” he asked.

“_Me_. The break-in. My mom dying. You didn’t deserve to have to deal with that and--”

He cut her off by giving her a kiss. “Do you mean outside of hockey, when I met the love of my life?”

She couldn’t handle his words. The tears escaped her slowly, and immediately she wiped them away with the backs of her hands. Morgan leaned forward again, capturing her lips in another kiss, and soon, they couldn’t tear themselves away from each other. It was only when they had to break for air that he spoke again. “I am going to go home, Briony. But only for a bit. I’ll be back and forth, but it’ll be okay.”

“You need to take this time to _relax_,” she stressed, putting her hand on his chest. “You can’t go back and forth all the time. This is your time off.”

“I’ll be fine. It’s nothing that I’m not used to,” he said. “Besides, you know I can’t go too long without seeing you.”

She sighed again. “I can’t go too long without seeing you _either_. But your priority shouldn’t be me, your priority should be yourself.”

“Hey, you’re _always_ my priority,” he said, grabbing hold on her hand on his chest. “You’re my home now too, Bumblebee. Don’t you ever forget it.”

She internalized his words as much as she could. _You’re my home now too, Briony._ She _never_ thought she’d hear those words – that someone would consider her _home_. But of course Morgan did, and Morgan was the one to say it about her. And even though she knew that in her close future she’d be spending more time than she liked alone, she knew that once he came back to her, they’d go back to being themselves, together. “Let’s…let’s take out our calendars.”

“Bumblebee.”

“I want to see when you’ll be gone. I know you’re out in PEI with Dion an the Boys and Girls Club, and I know--”

“Bumblebee--”

“_Please_ Morgan. Just take out your calendar. For me.”

He didn’t fight it. He moved to take his phone out of his pocket and he opened the calendar. “I’m going to see if I can catch a flight to Vancouver mid-week, okay? It can give us a couple of more days together,” he said. Bee nodded her head, cuddling more into him so she could lay her head on his chest, just below his shoulder. “We don’t have much in May. I know you have Alannah’s bachelorette party on the 11th but it’s not like I need to come to that. I can be back in town for the long weekend the following week and stay for a while. But then I want to be back home for dad’s birthday. I want to take him golfing. We always go golfing for his birthday.”

“Of course,” Bee said. She couldn’t help but smile slightly. “Back and forth, back and forth – it’s gonna be like hockey didn’t even stop.”

“What did I tell you?” he smirked, giving her a quick kiss. “I’m gonna miss your cooking.”

“I’m gonna miss you _eating_ all my cooking,” she said. “The apartment is going to feel so empty with you gone.”

“You should get a gerbil.”

She snorted as he wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Don’t tempt me, Morgan Rielly. You’ll come back in May and this place will be a literal zoo.”

“If that’s what you want that’s fine by me,” he mumbled, leaning in to kiss her again, and again, and again. Eventually, he pulled her on to his lap and let his hands wander underneath her shirt. “I’m gonna miss this most,” he mumbled against her lips.

“Me too,” she agreed, her hands cupping his face so she could look at him. He had shaved off his playoff beard, and there was only stubble now. She ran her thumbs along his jawline. “Gonna miss waking up to those baby blues every morning.”

He gave her another kiss. “Gonna miss waking up with my face between your thighs.”

A smile broke out on her face. “You’re a perv.”

“Only for you.”

*

_Tick tock tick tock…who is the next hockey player you’re gonna fuck for relevancy?_

_I bet ur gonna try to get with auston next. Or fred. You’re such a slut_

_Now is your chance to turn into a hot girl for hot girl summer. Join a gym ffs!!!!!!!!!!_


	30. Chapter 29

The two and a half weeks Morgan was back in Vancouver were _long_. They spoke everyday, FaceTiming most days, but the important part was that he was relaxing. She could see it in his eyes and the way the bags were getting less heavy, and she could hear it in his voice whenever he spoke to her, telling her about his day or how well he’d done on the last round of golf. After the stress of the season, she was sure he was appreciating doing nothing. He went to work out everyday (“I have to, Bumblebee, because if I don’t I’d get a dad bod real quick.”) but besides that, he didn’t have much going on with hockey. It was good for him, Bee thought.

They didn’t even talk about the playoffs. She couldn’t bring herself to watch any Boston games to see how they were doing. She hoped they lost every single one of them, if she was being honest. On a particularly restless night, she was flipping through the channels and saw a game from the western conference on, but she couldn’t bring herself to watch even that, despite having no emotional attachment to any team whatsoever.

Alannah’s bachelorette party had happened last weekend and Bee didn’t think she’d ever had such a good time. Between Alannah’s friends and the girls from the team, there were about twenty girls in total, and the festivities began Saturday morning with a trip to the Four Seasons spa for some massages and pampering. By the time they were done the daylong pampering session, the girls went back to their rooms at the Four Seasons and prettied themselves for a fancy dinner at STK. Drinks followed, as they always did, and barhopping to some of the hottest places in the city where they danced until last call. The next morning, everybody filed into Alannah’s executive suite and ordered room service for brunch. After Aryne drove Bee home, she collapsed onto the bed, smiling from ear to ear.

Bee was keeping busy and having fun in the city despite missing Morgan. Angie and Mason came over quite a bit, usually to have dinner or hang out, and she’d meet up for lunch with some of the girls who stayed in town even during the off-season, like Aryne and Ashley. Work always kept her occupied during the day, and she was trying to make a habit of hanging out with her co-workers more, whether it was at lunch, running to get coffees, or for happy hour drinks. It was at night, alone in their apartment, when Bee felt the weight of Morgan not being there. When she had to make dinner for only herself. When she crawled into the bed and didn’t feel his arms wrap around her. When she saw something that reminded her of him during her morning commute and she’d text him, only to remember he was three hours behind and still sleeping.

But that was no longer. He was on his way home. Well, his second home.

Bee was jittery after she got home from work, knowing that Morgan would text her any minute to tell her he had landed. She was preparing a nice meal for him – the Cuban food they had learned to cook together at Dish – and she kept glancing over at her phone, looking to see if he’d sent anything. His plane was supposed to be landing at 5:30. He hadn’t texted yet.

But then, without word or warning, the front door clicked to unlock. In a heartbeat, she noticed Morgan make his way through the door, a grin plastered on his face. She was going to kill him. She was _actually_ going to kill him. Completely forgetting the food on the stove and in the oven, she ran over to him and jumped on him, making him stumble back slightly before he locked his arms around hers and began kissing her feverishly. No ‘hello’, no ‘I miss you’, no ‘how was your flight’ – nothing. There were no words. Only the physical.

Morgan eventually pushed Bee up against the back of the door as she tugged at the hem of his pants desperately, undoing the button and pushing down the zipper. He did the same to her, only he just had to shove her leggings down so they pooled at her calves. She stepped out of them and as soon as she did, he picked her up, her legs wrapping around his waist, and pinned her against the door. After shoving her panties to the side and grabbing his member from his own boxers, he entered her in one quick thrust. No patience. No waiting.

“Oh _shit_,” Bee huffed out, the first words said in an otherwise quick, primal, raw tryst that she wasn’t expecting two minutes ago. Two minutes ago she was looking at her phone to see if he had texted her; two minutes later he was in her, fucking her against the door of their apartment.

“Missed you so fuckin’ much,” he grunted, pumping in and out of her as he looked her in the eye.

“Missed you too baby,” she mewled out, tugging at his hair.

“God, you feel so fuckin good,” he said. He knew this wasn’t going to last long. It wasn’t meant to. They were both so desperate and had waited _so long_ there was no way it could. “You okay?”

Bee nodded her head, closing her eyes. She dug her nails into his shoulders through the fabric of his shirt. “Always feels so good, baby.”

Morgan continued to pound into her, and soon enough he felt her walls clench around him as she clutched at him and dug her nails into his shoulders even harder. With a few more thrusts he exploded into her, gasping into the crook of her neck. He held her in his arms against the door, her legs still wrapped around him, as they calmed down from their highs, and he eventually set her down slowly, carefully, her legs threatening to give way at any given moment.

“Holy _fuck_ Morgan,” she breathed out, a slight giggle in her voice. She looked down at her leggings pooled on the floor. “That was quite a way to make an entrance.”

“I missed you,” he said simply, as if that explained everything, giving her another kiss. “What smells so good?”

“I’m making Cuban food for you.”

“Mmm…” he said. Another kiss. “Can I take a quick shower? It’s been a long day.”

“Of course,” she said. “Don’t be long though! It’s almost ready and I don’t want us eating a cold dinner.”

When Morgan came back from his shower, he was wearing only an old t-shirt and boxers, apparently not caring about his appearance. Not that he needed to – they were going to be alone all night. It was probably a surprise to him that she hadn’t put her leggings back on. “Oh?” he said, watching her as she plated the meal. He went up behind her and slapped her ass, garnering a yelp from her. “No pants, Briony McTavish?”

“You want me to put them on?” she asked rhetorically, wiggling her butt slightly.

“_No_,” he deadpanned. “Just surprised me is all.”

“Well, seems like we’re both full of surprises,” Bee giggled, putting the pan down back on the stove.

“I’ve got one more,” he said, wrapping his arms around her waist. He placed a kiss on her shoulder before moving up to her ear. “Pack your bags.”

Bee hesitated. “Pack my bags?”

“Mhm. I’m taking you somewhere.”

“Where?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

“Morgan.”

“Briony.”

She spun around to face him. “_Morgan Rielly_.”

“Briony McTavish, it’s a _surprise_,” he stressed, a grin on his face. “What good is a surprise if I tell you?”

“Morgan, I work tomorrow,” she said. “I can’t just take the day off.”

Morgan leaned in to kiss the tip of her nose. “I know, silly. I’m gonna pick you up from work and we’re gonna go.”

“Go where?”

“Stop asking or else I’m gonna throw you over my shoulder and body slam you onto the bed,” he warned.

“You say that like it’s a threat,” she wiggled her eyebrows. Morgan snorted, shaking his head at her before kissing her quickly. “Okay, fine. What do I need?”

“Clothes.”

“Thank you captain obvious,” she rolled her eyes.

“And bathing suits.”

“Bathing suits?” she asked. He nodded his head before kissing her again. “I…I only have the one I got for Vancouver.”

“So go out during your lunch tomorrow and buy some more. I’ll give you my card,” he said like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“Morgan.”

“Get whatever you want. Anything that shows off these curves,” he said, grabbing handfuls of her ass and squeezing them in his hands. “Don’t care about colour. Just wanna see these curves,” he bit down on the skin of her neck again, dragging his lips up to her ear. He let his hands run down the curve of her ass, taking her panties down along with them. Then, in one swift movement, he picked her up again, placing her on the counter.

“_Morgan_,” she breathed out, watching as he kneeled and pulled her panties off, throwing them across the kitchen.

“Ready for round two? We gotta make up for lost time.”

Maybe they _would_ be eating a cold dinner.

*

“Oooooh, Morgan,” Bee cooed as she walked in the door, leaving her suitcase behind her as she took in the sight before her.

True to his word, Morgan had picked her up at 5pm sharp that day. He’d driven them two hours north to surprise her with a weekend at a cottage on Lake Muskoka. It was small and cozy – nothing grand like the multi-million dollar compounds that populated the lake nowadays – and it was perfect. It was what a cottage _should_ be, Bee thought. And as she walked further inside, she gasped. In the windows of the giant A-frame, she saw the lake. The sun was just setting, making the sky a very light pink. “_Oooooh, Morgan_,” she repeated, her eyes wide at the sight.

“Looks great, eh?” Morgan asked, hauling in his bags.

“Look how beautiful it is outside!” Bee exclaimed, a giant smile on her face. “I can’t believe we made it for the sunset! God, you must have been speeding up that highway, Morgan.”

He giggled, giving her a kiss on her temple. “Go put on your sweats. I’ll go light some citronella torches and we’ll go out on the dock to watch the sunset.”

Bee scurried into the bedroom, grabbing the small carry-on luggage she was using for the weekend and throwing it on the bed before opening it. Morgan watched her for a few seconds, letting out another giggle before making his way outside and towards the dock. As he lit the torches and moved around the dock furniture so that only one muskoka chair was facing the lake and the sunset, he heard the screen door from the house bang shut. He looked up to see Bee making her way to the dock, a wine bottle and two glasses in her hands.

“Morgan, this is _stunning_,” she said as she approached the dock, not bothering to look at him but looking out onto Lake Muskoka instead. “What gave you the idea to come here?”

“We just needed to get away from the city for a bit. _You_ needed to get away from the city a bit,” he said. “You trying to get me drunk?” he asked, nodding his head towards the wine bottle in her hand.

She smirked. “Maybe I just want to enjoy a nice glass of wine on a dock overlooking Lake Muskoka with my boyfriend,” she said. “It’s not like I’ve ever been here before.”

“Well get over here then,” he said, sitting in the seat and patting his lap.

Bee did as she was told, snuggling into him in the large muskoka chair as she opened the bottle of wine and poured them each a glass. Morgan held his in one hand and wrapped his other arm around Bee’s waist. She snuggled into his chest, looking out onto the lake. Much like the boat ride to watch the sunrise over the Sunshine Coast, Morgan and Bee talked about anything and everything as they sat with their glasses of wine, sipping on them and kissing each other intermittently as the sky turned more vibrant shades of pink, orange, and red.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” Bee whispered, kissing Morgan lightly just as the sun was about to disappear behind the trees. “You know I appreciate everything that you do for me, right?”

“I know baby,” he cooed, kissing her again. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

He tried to make it seem like he wasn’t taking a deep breath. “These trips…Vancouver, and here, and wherever we go in the future…and your clothes and bags. Can I still buy you nice things without making you feel uncomfortable?”

Bee hesitated. It wasn’t that she was uncomfortable with the question. She was more uncomfortable with what she was willing to answer with. By now, she knew the subtleties of Morgan’s speech. She set her wine glass down on the dock before facing him again. “Do you remember what you said to me the night you came home from Boston?”

“What did I say?”

“You said you wanted to take care of me. Give me so much that I can quit my job,” Bee reiterated his words.

Morgan paused for a moment. It was clear to Bee he was recollecting the memory, however vague – or however clear – it was. “I remember,” he finally admitted.

“You know…” she hesitated. “You know I can’t do that right?”

“I know you can’t. Because you want to want to feel like you’re always contributing too,” Morgan said automatically.

Bee nodded her head. “Because I’m not giving up everything I’ve ever worked for.”

“I know baby. I know,” Morgan nodded his head. “That was just my subconscious talking because I let you down. And I don’t ever want to let you down.”

“But you didn’t let me down,” Bee said.

“We didn’t win,” he said, so quiet she almost couldn’t hear him.

“I don’t _care_ that you didn’t win,” Bee stressed, pain in her voice. “Morgan, you _have_ to know that by now.”

Morgan let out a deep breath. “I guess I let myself down and by extension I thought I let you down. I just… I’m not asking you to quit your job or whatever. I’d _never_ ask that of you, ever. I know I sound like a broken record by now but you deserve nice things and I don’t want you to keep thinking that you don’t deserve it or shouldn’t have it. I just want to be the one able to give you the things you want and need in life without you being uncomfortable about it.”

Bee couldn’t help but smile, cupping Morgan’s face in her hand. She kissed him gently. “You already do. You give me everything I’ve ever wanted and needed in life.”

“I do?”

She couldn’t help but giggle at the ridiculousness of him questioning what he had given her since they met, since even before the beginning of their relationship. “Of _course_ you do. You give me the most love I’ve ever known,” she said, kissing him gently, “you give me affection,” another kiss, “you give me the feeling that I can do anything and be anyone,” another kiss. “I know it’s hard to see because they’re not material things but that stuff matters more to me than anything else. And all the material stuff is nice, don’t get me wrong. But I came from nothing and I can go back to nothing, Morgan. So long as you’re with me.”

He gave her a long, lingering kiss, his fingertips grazing the skin at the small of her back. “I don’t want you to worry about anything ever again in your life. Will you please let me at least do that for you?” he asked.

She could tell how much this meant to him. How _important_ it was for him. “Okay,” she said gently. “Okay.”

Morgan leaned up to kiss her again, except this time, he didn’t stop. Neither stopped. They continued kissing, Morgan feeling up Bee and Bee tugging on Morgan’s hair, until she kissed along his jawline, making her way towards his ear, and said, “Make love to me Morgan.”

In one swift movement, Morgan picked her up and began carrying her back to the cottage, ready to do just that.

*

“C’mon baby, give me a pose!” Morgan yelled in the worst Austin Powers impression Bee had ever heard. She couldn’t help but snort at his antics as they were out on Lake Muskoka on the boat that had come with the cottage for the weekend. They had traveled a bit throughout the lake to see all the different cottages that lined the water, and she had wanted to stop to take some pictures in her new bathing suit.

“Morgan!” she giggled, sitting on the edge of the boat while he posed dramatically with her phone in his hand, pretending to be a professional photographer. She had taken off her life jacket and didn’t want it to be off for too long.

“Yes! Beautiful! Feeling it! It’s all in the smiles, baby!” he continued in the ridiculous accent. “Okay, you’re an animal! Yes! You’re a _toooiiiiiigaarrr_! You’re Tony the Tiger!”

“Morgan, please!” she cackled.

“Smashing, baby! You got your mojo working overtime darling.”

“_Morgan_!”

“And I’m spent,” he threw his hands up dramatically.

“Can you stop being Austin Powers and take a nice picture of your girlfriend?” she asked.

“I am taking _beautiful_ pictures of my girlfriend,” he countered, holding up the phone again. “You smiling and laughing is the most beautiful thing in the world.”

“Stop being corny,” she joked. “I’m trying to build my Instagram model career and these pictures are going to make or break it!”

“Instagram model, huh?” Morgan smirked. “You’re hotter than all those girls put together.”

“Sure, Morgan.”

“I’m being serious! Especially in that bathing suit,” he said, licking his lips.

“Well, I do listen to what you say when you put in special requests,” Bee winked.

*

“Do you feel comfortable?” Morgan asked, looking over at Bee in the driver’s seat of the Porsche as they were pulled off on the side of an empty road. She nodded her head. “Is your foot touching the pedals comfortably?” he asked again. Another nod. “Okay, so you’re gonna push down the brake and then put the gear into drive,” he said gently. Bee did as she was told. “Now, you have to signal that you’re going to re-join the traffic, so put your turn signal on and approach the road slowly.”

Bee put the turn signal on, and her foot released the brake. She put a bit too much pressure on the gas pedal and they jerked forward. “Sloooowly. Slowly baby,” Morgan cautioned, trying to mimic what she was supposed to do with her foot with his hand. “Gentle. If you put too much pressure we’re gonna go through the window.”

“Sorry,” she said in a worried tone.

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” he assured her. “Just go gentle. I made the same mistakes too.”

“You did?”

“Of course,” he nodded his head. “I was a fucking disaster. But I practiced and I learned. And so will you. Try again.”

She put her foot on the gas pedal, much gentler this time, and the car began moving forward. Her eyes were wide as they moved down the road. “Theeeeere we go,” Morgan smiled beside her. “You’re driving, Briony!”

“Should I go faster?” she asked.

“Go whatever pace you want,” he said, checking the side mirror to make sure there weren’t any cars. “We’re the only ones on this road. You can go faster when you feel comfortable.”

Bee looked in her rear-view mirror. She gulped a bit before increasing her speed slightly. “I’m going thirty kilometres right now,” she said, glancing at the speedometer.

“That’s good! That’s the speed you’ll go if you’re ever on the 401,” Morgan joked. He saw she still had a death grip on the steering wheel, so much so that her knuckles were white. “You can loosen your grip baby.”

“I’m comfortable like this,” she said, not taking her eyes off the road.

“Okay,” he said, smiling slightly. “You’re doing great.”

“I am?”

“Mhm,” he nodded his head. “Pretty soon you’ll be parallel parking.”

*

“Look over your shoulder, Bee,” Morgan called out as he stayed a few steps behind her, appreciating the new romper she was wearing and how it made her butt look so good as they walked through the streets of Port Carling. They decided to take a stop in the quintessential Muskoka town and grab some ice cream cones before heading back home.

“Huh?” she asked, looking back at him. She saw him with his phone in his hand, snapping pictures, even going so far as to crouch down to get a better angle. “Oh my God, are you being serious right now?”

“C’mon baby,” he smiled, continuing to snap shots of her. She had admitted to him the series of pictures he took on the boat acting like Auston Powers were actually good, mostly because she was laughing and not posing in at least half of them, and he’d taken it to heart. He wouldn’t stop taking pictures of her all weekend.

“Morgan…” she giggled, shaking her head. “Is this just a ploy so you can take pictures of my ass?”

“You got me,” he said. “Just pose, beautiful. Instagram modelling requires pictures at every moment of the day, doesn’t it?”

She couldn’t help but giggle as she tried to pose naturally, though soon enough, she couldn’t help but break out into dumb poses, sticking her butt out and dramatically licking her ice cream cone. Morgan took as many as he could before bursting out into a fit of giggles himself, getting up from his crouched position and walking over to her.

“I think you’ll knock Instagram modelling out of the park,” he said as he approached her. “Especially in this one.”

She looked down at his phone to see a picture of her with an ice cream moustache as she stuck her tongue out and kicked up her foot behind her. She let out a scream over how ridiculous she looked. “_Delete that_!” she screamed, trying to grab the phone from him.

“_Never_!”

*

Morgan should have known better. When Bee said “Why don’t you let _me_ choose where you get to take me,” he should have insisted it be Gucci.

“It’s the cats’ playtime, so we have some potential new parents and some volunteers in the room right now,” Mrs. Sommers, a very lovely and friendly employee of the Toronto Humane Society said, leading him and Bee down the hallway towards what he could only assume was a room full of cats waiting to be adopted. “Our volunteers and caretakers know all about the cats, so you can just ask one of them any information.”

“There must be a lot of them,” Bee commented. “I’ve been researching on your website. There seemed to be so many cats this season.”

“Well, yes. There always is,” she said. “We had our annual kitten drive last weekend and this past weekend. The kittens always go fast. It’s the more mature cats that we always have trouble with adopting out.”

“That’s so sad,” Morgan said. He didn’t want to ask what happened to them if they couldn’t be adopted.

“Well, here we are,” Mrs. Sommers smiled, opening a door and ushering them in quickly to a room where, Morgan guessed, at least twenty-five cats were roaming about. He’d never been in a room with so many cats before. He looked towards Bee and she had an excited look on her face as she tried to take in everything before her. There were at least five or six other couples in the room as well, playing with the cats or petting them as they relaxed on their jungle gyms.

Bee looked up at Morgan. “I’m gonna look around, okay?”

Morgan nodded his head. “You do you.”

Bee wandered throughout the room, Mrs. Sommers by her side as she crouched down to pet the cats she saw. Mrs. Sommers was ready with names (most of them made Bee laugh – Garth, Queen, Snicklefritz) and information at any given moment, and seemed to know everything about every cat in the room. Bee listened attentively at some of the more unfortunate cases, about this cat having diabetes (it was wholly and easily treatable, apparently) or that cat coming in with an infection. The more Mrs. Sommers spoke, the more Bee’s heart broke, wishing she could adopt every cat in the room.

Then Bee noticed a cat curled in the corner, alone and away from all the other cats, looking like he was just about to fall asleep. He had a beautiful coat, brown and white and slightly beige, with white paws making it look like he was wearing socks. “Who’s this little guy?”

“Oh, this is our little baby Chub,” Mrs. Sommers smiled. “He’s a Snowshoe. We were very, _very_ surprised to see he was a Snowshoe when we brought him back. He’s about seven months old. Just neutered which is why he’s a bit sleepy.”

“Where did he come from?”

“We found him and his brothers and sisters in a house downtown. There were many cats living there. Too many. There were multiple people living there and nobody, _nobody_ was taking care of the cats,” Mrs. Sommers explained, the anger evident in her voice. It was clear she wasn’t saying exactly what she wanted to say. “All his brothers and sisters have already been adopted out. Same with the twelve or so other cats we found at the property.”

“Why hasn’t Chub?” Bee asked worriedly.

“Well, if you’ll look…” Mrs. Sommers guided her to approach him slowly. As Bee did, Chub turned his face towards her, and she could see. One big beautiful blue eye looking at her, the other missing, his socket sewn completely shut with nothing left but a very faint line. “Chub lost his left eye. It was infected when we found him and it was too late for saving. Poor boy was in a lot of pain. Our vet had to perform surgery when he was well enough, and now…well, he’s a one eyed-cat. And people don’t seem to want one-eyed cats.”

Bee was heartbroken. As she stretched out her hand, Chub rubbed against it, and Bee began to scratch behind his ears. When she did that, he got up and made his way over to her, meowing contently. “He’s such a sweet boy,” she cooed.

“Oh yes, yes he is,” Mrs. Sommers smiled. “He has no residual damage from the loss either. Some depth perception problems, as to be expected, but other than that he’s a very healthy boy. Even the scar healed perfectly. He’s good with other animals, too. Whoever adopts him will need to keep him indoors, but there is no reason why he shouldn’t live the standard age for an indoor cat…you know, thirteen to seventeen years.”

“Mrs. Sommers! Apologies but can we steal you for a second?” another employee called from the door, interrupting their conversation. Bee didn’t take her eyes off of Chub as he kept meowing and began rubbing his face and body onto her knees.

“I’ll be right back Ms. McTavish, you feel free to hold and snuggle any cat here,” she said, leaving the room.

“Come here, pretty boy,” Bee cooed, picking up Chub and cradling him against her chest. He meowed contently again and began smelling her face, his wet nose tickling her. “You’re a sweet little boy, aren’t you?” she spoke to him, and he began purring. She felt the vibrations against her hand. “You’re such a sweet little boy, Chub. Do you want to come home with me? I have a nice big place where we can play and you can sleep all day and it will be so comfy for you.” Chub rested his head on her chest, purring loudly as his eye drooped down to fall asleep again. She could have cried right there.

As she turned around, she saw Morgan staring at her with a smile on his face, his hands stuffed into his pockets. “We’re taking the one-eyed cat, aren’t we,” he said as more of a statement than a question.

“Morgan, we _have_ to,” Bee begged as Chub stayed cradled in her arms. “Look at him. He’s already sleeping in my arms, Mo. He’s _home_.”

“Are we going to have to do anything about the eye?”

Bee shook her head. “She said he’s healthy. It healed perfectly. He’s going to have depth perception problems but that’s it. He can live as long as any other indoor cat.”

“When Mrs. Sommers comes back we’ll let her know,” Morgan nodded his head. “He’s a cutie pie, Bee. Seems like this was destined right from the start.”

“Morgan, can we adopt them all?”

Morgan snorted, looking down at his girlfriend. “Briony McTavish, don’t give me that face. You know I can’t say no to you.”

“Oh! Would you look at that!” Mrs. Sommers exclaimed, smiling from ear to ear as she noticed Chub sleeping in Bee’s arms. “How cute is that?”

“We’re taking Chub,” Bee smiled, petting his paw gently with her thumb.

Mrs. Sommers nodded her head. “Follow me, dears. We’ll go into the office to finalize the adoption and fill out some paperwork.”

Morgan didn’t grasp how much Bee had wanted this until he saw and heard how prepared she was. She had an answer for literally every question they asked her, down to who their veterinarian would be (Alannah’s sister Rachael, naturally, because why would Bee adopt a cat without a vet?). She told them their schedules, how much she’d play with the cat, where the litter box would be in the apartment, what kind of food she’d feed the cat and how much. Everything was researched and well thought out. Morgan just sat there nodding his head. And by the end of it, they’d received their first box of litter, a small bag of food to start them off, a string toy Chub apparently really liked, and Chub inside a basic pet taxi, meowing loudly at his less-than-ideal new surroundings.

Morgan loaded everything into the car and Bee made herself comfortable with the pet taxi on her lap in the passenger’s seat. When he started the car, he heard Bee, still cooing and trying to calm down a frightened Chub. “What’s his name gonna be? We can’t keep it as Chub.”

Without even looking at him, she revealed, “It’s gonna be Bruce.”

Morgan looked at her. “Are you _really_ going to name the cat after Bruce Springsteen?”

“Did you expect anything less from me?” she asked rhetorically, giving him a smirk.

He couldn’t help but chuckle, reversing the car out of the spot. “No, I guess I didn’t.”

*

@brionymctavish: Welcome to the family, Bruce <3 #adoptdontshop

@jazzykadri: OMG! My new BFF! <3 <3 <3 Welcome to the family Brucey!

@lucygardiner_: BRUCE! What a cutie pie! Welcome to the family Bruce!

@enzosauce: I’m coming over

@masonbennett: when are you guys adopting the e street band?!

@angiefavs: sarah jessica barker is gonna get a run for her money

@frederikandersen31: oh boy

@marner_93: can I come over to visit the kitty? @morganrielly

@morganrielly: no.

@stephlachancee: OMG he is soooooo cute! @morganrielly can I come over to visit the kitty?

@morganrielly: yes.

@kasperikapanen1: missed the opportunity to call him captain jack sparrow but bruce is cool I guess

@williamnylander: wow. so soft.

@morganrielly: soft boy.

@auston_matthews: you named your cat after the fat kid who ate the chocolate cake in Matilda?!

@brionymctavish: IT’S AFTER BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN YOU UNCULTURED SWINE


	31. Chapter 30

Bee looked at herself in the mirror, smoothing out her spaghetti strap dress striped with pink and green and navy. She’d curled her hair slightly and wore some bright coloured lipstick to reflect the great weather and the happy event: Aryne’s baby shower. She was having it at McLean House within the Estates of Sunnybrook, and Bee couldn’t be more excited. Ashley had just had her own baby shower last weekend, so for a solid week, Bee was occupied with all things baby. She stood in front of the mirror in the bedroom and took a picture of her complete outfit, sending it to Ashley to make sure it was okay (who replied with emphatic and all-caps “HAWT” and “WERK IT” texts) before texting it to Morgan.

Before she was even able to grab her Chanel bag and make sure everything she needed was in there, her phone began to ring and Morgan’s name flashed across the screen.

“You look beautiful,” he said, not bothering with saying hello after she did. “You have Aryne’s baby shower today, right?”

“Yeah. And thank you. The dress looks good?”

“The dress looks _amazing_,” he stressed. “You know I think you look beautiful in everything.”

Bee couldn’t help but blush. “What are you up to today? How was Andy’s birthday yesterday?”

“It was fun! We played a round of golf in Whistler in the morning and then went to Blue Water Café in Yaletown to have dinner. He got a little drunk off the wine,” Morgan laughed slightly. “Haven’t seen him drunk in years.”

“Did he like my gift?” Bee asked hesitantly, referring to the coffee mug and tie she bought for him. Morgan had taken it to Vancouver with him already wrapped when he left.

“He loved it. They missed you last night.”

“They know I’ll be there at the end of July, right?” she asked, referring to the two week trip to Vancouver she and Morgan had planned for her two weeks vacation. They had decided on it before he left and had booked the tickets already. Bee was excited to go back.

“I’m keeping it a surprise from them,” he said. “He’s coming back from the washroom right now. I’ll talk to you later okay?”

“Okay. Tell him I say hi,” she said. “I love you. And I miss you.”

“I love you and miss you too, Bumblebee. Have fun today. You look beautiful.”

Almost immediately after hanging up, her phone buzzed for a text from Ashley saying she was waiting out front. Bee rushed in packing some last minute things into her purse before strapping on her heels, grabbing her present, and meeting Ashley outside. She slid into the passenger’s seat and kissed her across the console. In the backseat, she saw Sydney Esiason quickly typing away on her phone before setting it down on her lap to smile at her.

“You look _adorable_!” Ashley exclaimed as she drove away, taking another look at Bee in her dress. “Sydney, you remember Bee McTavish?”

“Of course! The one who _works_!” Sydney smiled from the backseat. “It’s…TD Bank?”

“Scotiabank,” Bee corrected her politely. “It’s nice to see you again Sydney. How’s the wedding planning going?”

“All done! Just a few weeks to go,” she smiled. “It’s too bad this one can’t fly to the Hamptons to be there,” Sydney nodded her head towards Ashley in the front seat. “Everyone _else_ is going to be there.” Morgan never received a wedding invitation, even though other members of the team had. Bee figured it was because he and Matt never became close during Matt’s time on the Leafs. Not that Bee cared – she had no idea who these people were besides her brief encounter with Sydney months ago during lunch with Aryne.

“I can’t fly!” Ashley defended herself. “My doctor said it’s way too risky.”

“I know, I know,” Sydney rolled her eyes playfully. “How have you been, Bee? How’s _work_?”

Bee couldn’t help but notice the way Sydney kept saying the word ‘work’, but she tried not to think much of it. Bee wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. “Work is great, actually,” Bee said. “It keeps me busy, that’s for sure. But I love the team I work with, so it’s all good.”

“I bet you wished you could have quit for the playoffs,” Sydney commented. “How hard was it to travel to Boston with your work schedule?”

Bee tried not to make a face or furrow her brows. “I didn’t go to Boston.”

“Oh, you _didn’t_?” Sydney asked. She seemed genuinely shocked that Bee couldn’t travel, that she couldn’t follow Morgan regardless of how important the game way. “Hey Ash, where are we picking up Alannah?”

“Just at her hair salon on King. We’ll be there in like two minutes.”

Bee began to feel self-conscious. Morgan had never expressed that any WAGs would ever travel with the team during the playoffs. She assumed that the boys needed to stay focused, without distraction, and that significant others weren’t allowed to travel with them. Why did Sydney make it seem like it was so out of the ordinary that Bee didn’t go? Even if she _could_ go, even if the significant others _were_ allowed to travel with the team…she had _work_. She had a _job_. _Responsibilities_. She couldn’t just follow Morgan wherever he went because of hockey. She had a life too, and a career she was building – one as important as his – and she didn’t take that lightly.

When Alannah got in the car, the girls settled into a comfortable conversation – Ashley, Alannah, and Sydney more so, with Bee contributing every now and then – as Ashley made her way towards the Don Valley Parkway, the highway she’d need to take to get to the northern part of the city. As she turned on to Queen Street, driving through Moss Park on the east side of Toronto, Bee felt a sense of familiarity. Despite her circumstances now, she would never forget where she came from. These were the streets she grew up with – the streets that raised her, to an extent. The schools she attended. The apartment buildings she lived in. The parks she wandered through when –

“I don’t think I remember driving through this part of town! _Ghettoooo_!” Sydney giggled jovially from the backseat. “We heard so much about it when Matt wanted to go to that trendy restaurant but we never ended up coming ‘cause I convinced him not to.”

A shiver ran up Bee’s spine at Sydney’s comment. Yeah, it _was_ the ghetto. It was one of the most depraved areas of Toronto. Public housing buildings dominated the neighbourhood. May families were low-income or relied on public assistance – like Bee and her mother had been. There were a lot of homeless shelters – many that Bee stayed in at some point in her young life. Bee was torn up at how out of touch Sydney made herself seem with that comment, so completely unaware of the area despite living in Toronto for two years…Bee didn’t know if it was a shock to her, or if she expected it.

And the fact that she had called it the ghetto with the tone of voice that she did. Like it was a joke.

Bee was quiet as they pulled up to a light. She looked towards Ashley in the driver’s seat before pointing to a building across from them that very much looked like public housing. “You see that building over there?” she asked. Ashley nodded her head, and Bee looked in the rear-view mirror to see Sydney and Alannah from the backseat looking as well. “I used to live there.”

Bee could see Sydney’s body stiffed in the backseat. “_Ohmygod_, you used to _live_ here?”

“Yeah,” Bee nodded her head, trying to handle this with as much grace and maturity as she could even though Sydney had said what she said. “I grew up around here. I’ve lived in a couple of the buildings.”

“Well thank God you got out, huh?”

Bee bit her tongue so she wasn’t snippy. “Yeah. Thank God.”

*

“Oh my God Bee, your dress is _sooooo_ cute!” Aryne exclaimed as she waddled over excitedly towards Bee with her arms stretched out, giving her a giant hug as she always did. “And your lipstick! That colour! I feel like Nigel from the Devil Wears Prada – my job here is done.”

Bee couldn’t help but giggle as she hugged Aryne back. “You’ll always be my fairy godmother, Aryne.”

“Good. Come on. Let me introduce you to my mom and some of my cousins.”

After a flurry of introductions, polite handshakes, small-talk, fruity drinks and some canapés, Bee let Aryne greet the next batch of guests who arrived as she re-joined Ashley, Alannah, and Sydney. Monique and Christina had joined, and Bee made sure to greet them. “That dress looks so cute on you, Bee!” Christina smiled as she went in for the hug.

“Thank you! God, I think I should wear it more often! I’ve been getting so many compliments,” she giggled. “I fell in love with the colours of the stripes.”

“It does look great,” Sydney agreed. “It's good you chose vertical stripes. They're slimming which is why it looks so great on you. Horizontal stripes are a big no no."

Bee’s breath hitched in her throat. Monique said something immediately after that made them switch subjects, but Bee was still stuck on the comment. She wished she wasn’t. She wished she could let it go and not care about it, but she couldn’t. It was like her Instagram DMs had taken a human form and she couldn’t get away. In front of her was a walking, talking embodiment of everything those girls wanted her to be, everything they thought Bee _should_ be, and everything that she so clearly _wasn’t_. Sydney didn’t need to wear anything that was slimming because she was already slim. She didn’t need to think about what would look good and what clothes would flatter her body because _everything_ would look good – with her blonde hair, perfectly plumped lips, cheekbones to die for, skin as clear as the sky, she looked like a fucking model.

Bee tried not to let it get the best of her as the baby shower went on. Everybody sat at their designated seats and munched on Caesar salad, a choice of either salmon filet or mushroom ravioli, and a peach and blueberry crumble. They played games, guessed the gender, and opened presents to much oohing and awing over how tiny everything was. Aryne seemed to appreciate Bee’s gift of a plush elephant and small collection of books to add to the baby’s library.

As the ladies ate their dessert, from beside Bee, Alannah nudged her gently. “Lucy texted me, told me you got a good deal on yoga pants. Lululemon?” she asked, forking some crumble into her mouth.

“Old Navy, actu--”

“Are you looking for a studio?” Sydney imposed on the conversation. Bee looked at her across the table. “I used to go to Moksha Yoga on King for hot yoga. And Jessica recommended this _amazing_ personal trainer who works out of a gym on Adelaide. If you tell them my name, they’ll definitely help you with everything you need done.”

“_Sydney_,” Alannah stressed. So it _wasn’t_ just Bee who was picking up on these things. Alannah had been listening for a long time too and, well, hell – Alannah was a lawyer. Reading between the lines on every single little thing said was practically her job. “I’m just asking about a deal on yoga pants.”

_‘Do I look like I need to be helped? Do I look like I need everything done?’_ Bee wanted to desperately to ask, but decided to hold her tongue.

“Listen, we can all tone up a bit,” Sydney shrugged her shoulders. “Like, I’m taking a boxing class right now to tone up before the wedding. We’ve had to take in the dress a bit more and my seamstress sort of hates me for it, but…it’s my wedding! I need to look my best, right? You understand, Alannah,” she tried to play it off, smiling and giggled and making it into a joke. “We _all_ want to look _good_ on our wedding day! Those are photos we’re going to have forever.”

“I get what you’re saying, Syd. I just wouldn’t advertise gyms or personal trainers to people unless they explicitly ask for it,” Alannah said.

“I don’t think Bee is offended, Alannah,” Sydney said as if it was the most ridiculous notion in the world. Bee was highly offended. “She knows how long and stressful the wedding planning has been.”

“She does?” Alannah asked.

“I do?” Bee asked, speaking for the first time in the entire conversation.

“Of course you do! Remember when we first met at lunch? I mentioned the second dress and the flower wall and the veil,” she said. Bee looked at her wide-eyed, shocked that Sydney would assume Bee would remember any detail about her wedding when she, nor her boyfriend, were even invited in the first place. “It was like, after the All-Star Break. When I was in town for my dress fitting on Valentine’s Day,” Sydney said. “I know you and Morgan were in Vancouver around that time, but you must remember.”

The fact that Sydney remembered, or even knew, that Morgan and Bee were in Vancouver during the All-Star Break was one thing – she must have seen the stolen pictures reposted on NHL WAG Instagram accounts. But at the mention of said All-Star Break, Alannah got physically uncomfortable. “Syd--”

“I’m sorry, I just remember that we met. I don’t remember the details. I must have forgotten about it,” Bee shrugged her shoulders, trying to drop it.

“_How_ could you forget?” Sydney pressured.

“Sydney --”

“Because my mother _died_ during the All-Star Break in January,” Bee revealed as calmly as she could, biting her tongue and looking Sydney dead in the eye, watching her squirm in her seat, the discomfort and the realization finally dawning on her. “Now can we drop it?”

A loud clink of a glass. Everybody settling down and silencing themselves. Aryne standing up from her spot at the head of the table, a giant smile on her face as she started her speech thanking everyone for coming and for all their gifts. Polite rounds of applause as she thanked her mom and her mother-in-law for hosting. Another polite round of applause when she finished her speech. A strained smile on Sydney’s face as she listened and clapped along. Side-eyes from Alannah, watching the space between Bee and Sydney, before focusing back on Aryne.

“I’ll be right back,” Bee said to Alannah as she stood up from her seat, making her way towards the bathrooms. Noticing that it was empty when she entered, Bee took a few seconds to look at herself in the mirror. The dress _did_ look nice, and it _did_ look cute on her, but because there were spaghetti straps, there was some underarm flab that the other girls didn’t have. If she was strategic, her hair could conceal it. Bee wondered if that’s what set Sydney off.

Bee was only human. There was only so much negativity she could take until she began to wonder if the words that constantly followed her around were true. She knew she wasn’t perfect – far from it – but she didn’t need her imperfections and insecurities pointed out to her at literally every given moment of the day. The Instagram DMs were a part of her life at this point – she’d never be able to get rid of them, and she made her peace with that long ago. They didn’t affect her as much, mostly because these girls didn’t know her, or Morgan, or anything to do with her life. But to hear similar comments coming from the mouth of someone in a similar situation, someone who knows this world and who has been in it for a while…it was different. Bee was taking her comments to heart, even though she knew she shouldn’t be. It was a rare moment of weakness for her – a moment of weakness she tried to desperately to overcome when it was anonymous random messages.

But in that moment of weakness, her thoughts and impulses got the best of her. She could only be so strong. She was only normal. She remembered what those girls said to her in the bathrooms at Scotiabank Arena and opened a new tab on her phone. _‘tumblr puckbunny Sydney esiason cassie’_ she typed the random array of words quickly into the search bar, the first link giving her exactly what she wanted. An anonymous ask sending in screenshots of a Valentine’s Day post on someone’s profile and a comment thread below. The original comment on Instagram read _‘Fangirls in Toronto didn’t like Syd bc she called them out on their bullshit. The amount of girls trying to hook up with players there is ridiculous. They have no shame. So many succeed bc the guys are young and dumb. They’re all work as waitresses or bottle girls at clubs.’_

Innocent enough, Bee thought. She was intrigued to know that Sydney had apparently called girls out. When the whole mess happened with Morgan, Bee distinctly remembered Steve Keogh telling her not to engage. She wouldn’t have put it past Sydney to not listen to him.

But then, Sydney’s response to the comment: ‘_Girls in Toronto love to pretend to work only to quit when the playoffs come around’_

Bee locked her phone as an automatic reaction because she couldn’t believe the words she’d just read. She unlocked her phone again. She read over the comments and noticed the answer written by the owner of the blog. _‘That’s definitely about Cassie, anon. Don’t know where u get off thinking it’s about Mo’s girl just bc that other anon sent in proof Bee got a job at Scotiabank. Everybody knows Cassie is a wannabe model and only got hired by that modelling agency bc her dad is friends with the owner. Cassie doesn’t work and comes from money but wants to be a ‘model’ and ‘influencer’ bc she’s barely literate.’_

Bee felt like flushing her phone down the toilet. She felt like burying it in one of the flowerbeds outside so she could never see it again. She felt like taking the streetcar all the way down to Lake Ontario, attaching concrete blocks to her phone, and tossing it into the lake. _‘Girls in Toronto love to pretend to work’_ repeated over and over in her head.

She couldn’t do this. She didn’t want to engage. Not today, at Aryne’s baby shower. Not _ever_.

She exited the stall, flattening out her dress and putting her phone back into her Chanel bag before the door opened again out of the corner of her eye. “Hey,” Sydney’s voice shocked her momentarily. Bee watched as she entered the washroom clutching her bag, letting the door close behind her. “Are you alright?”

Bee had held her tongue for most of the afternoon. She had tried to remain calm and quiet, stoic, and unbothered. But she couldn’t anymore. Not after Alannah heard it too. And now, with the two of them alone in a bathroom, she was finally going to use her voice. “Is there…I mean, is there a reason why you hate me so much?”

“_What_?” Sydney asked.

“All you’ve done today is insult me in every way possible.”

“Well I didn’t mean to.”

“But you _kept_ doing it!” Bee stressed. “Every conversation we’ve had today, I felt like you were trying to undermine me somehow or make me feel like complete shit. And like…listen,” Bee took a deep breath. “I don’t need you to like me. Quite frankly, I don’t care if you do. You don’t mean anything to me and I don’t know you. But you need to at least respect me. And you weren’t even doing _that_.”

“I was trying to help you--”

“How? By insinuating I was fat and needed to lose weight?” Bee demanded. “By making me feel bad for having a career away from hockey?”

“Listen, I think you misunderstood--”

“Don’t take me for a fucking idiot, Sydney,” Bee spat, not even bothering to hold back the venom in her voice, looking her dead in the eye. It shut Sydney up really quick. “I’m sure you already know what comments I get regularly from girls in Toronto. It’s white noise at this point for how many I get. Every. Single. Day. You’ve been in this world for much longer than I have and you should know better. I _really_ don’t need those types of comments from you too.”

There was a moment of silence between the two women as Sydney lowered her eyes and looked at the floor. Bee couldn’t help but cross her arms over her chest, waiting for a reply. “Listen…” Sydney began finally. “I’m sorry if you were offended--”

“I _am_ offended.”

“Well I’m _sorry_,” she stressed, her voice more firm this time. “It’s just a really stressful time right now and I guess I said some things that were misconstrued. You don’t understand because you aren’t getting married or planning a wedding.”

Bee couldn’t help but roll her eyes. If a half-assed apology and some lame excuse were all she was going to get from her, then so be it. She would have to accept it. She wanted to end the conversation right there because she didn’t want to hear Sydney blame it on anything besides her sour attitude. “I’m sure you’re going to have a beautiful wedding and you’re going to look absolutely stunning, because you are. You just don’t need to insult other people, whether consciously or unconsciously, in order to do that.”

Bee made her way past Sydney, opening the door to the washroom and re-joining the baby shower. By this point, the wait staff was clearing the dessert dishes from the table. She settled into her seat, eating the last of her crumble. Alannah looked at her wide-eyed. “Is everything okay?” she asked.

“Just don’t say anything to Aryne,” Bee implored, and Alannah nodded her head.

*

“LET’S GO RAPTORS!” Bee shouted along with the rest of the fans, clapping and smiling as she looked between the jumbotron and the action on the court to see what was going on. Basketball was easier to understand than hockey for most things (although fouls still confused her – they could be called for the slightest of things, whereas in hockey it often seemed you needed to guillotine a guy to get a penalty called), so she was able to pick it up quicker. The energy inside of Scotiabank Arena was different than a Leaf game, that was for sure. The buzz that the Raptors could bring a championship to Toronto fed that feeling.

Bee sat with Morgan, munching on the last of their popcorn. So many of the boys – Naz, Patrick, Travis, Zach, Mitch, Connor, and Trevor – and their significant others were there cheering on the Raptors from an executive suite and the accompanying seats. Morgan had the free t-shirt they were given wrapped around his neck, and Bee had hers around her neck as well, not wanting to cover the brand new Raptors jersey Morgan bought for her when they got to the arena.

“Are you liking it so far, Bee?” Naz asked her as Morgan escaped to the washroom in between plays.

“I’m _loving_ it,” she smiled. “No offence but it’s so much easier to understand than hockey.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Naz smiled. “I think it helps that they might fucking do this tonight. The city is going to go apeshit.”

“If they do, we have to be out there with them,” she said. “I think the last time people partied in the streets for a championship was when Team Canada won the gold medal in Vancouver, right?” she mused. “But I was only fifteen then. Couldn’t exactly party.”

“Even then. It was Team Canada, but it wasn’t a _Toronto_ team,” he said. “It’s gonna be _nuts_. And if we win it at home it makes it that much sweeter.”

As the play resumed, Morgan still hadn’t made it back to his seat. Bee and Naz watched intently as the Raptors began a play that ended up in a pretty awesome shot by Kyle Lowry. Though Bee was focused on watching, she noticed Naz look behind him out of the corner of her eye and yell _‘Hurry up bro!’_. After a few more back and forths, Kawhi Leonard shot an incredible three-pointer, giving the Raptors the lead. Everybody went crazy – Bee and Naz stood up from their seats, throwing their hands up in the air. Bee looked to her right to see Morgan doing the same, an excited smile on his face before he went in to give Naz a giant hug. They began jumping together with excitement and Bee couldn’t help but laugh – they looked like little boys, especially Morgan with his backwards cap on. He managed to shuffle past Naz and hug her too, squeezing her tightly and lifting her up off the ground. After he set her down, he kept his arms around her as he kissed her.

“They’re gonna do it! They’re really gonna do it!” he screamed.

But they didn’t. After a last minute surge, the final score was 106-105 for the Golden State Warriors. Another heartbreak. The series was 3-2, and the Raptors would be heading back to California. Despite the loss, everybody seemed in generally good spirits, given the score. Considering it was so close, and considering the Raptors were still up a game, there was a major hunch that the Raptors would end the series next game, in Golden State’s arena.

“So what did you think?” Morgan asked as they got into his car in the Scotiabank Arena parking lot. “Your first basketball game. Sorry they lost.”

Bee snorted. There was no reason for _him_ to apologize. He wasn’t even on the team. “It was a blast, Morgan. I’m going to have to write a thank you note to Kyle and Masai for the tickets.”

“You don’t have to do that,” he said absent-mindedly.

“Of course I do. It’s polite,” she countered. “Tickets for this game were going for thousands of dollars. And we were in a private box with catering. It would be impolite not to.”

“Okay, okay,” he smiled, grabbing her hand across the console as they drove out of the parking garage. “You look cute in that jersey.”

She smirked as she gave him some side-eye. “Oh yeah? How so?”

Morgan shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. You just _do_.”

“Do you prefer a Raptors jersey on me or a Leafs jersey?” she asked.

Morgan gave her a look, causing her to giggle. “I think you know the answer to that question,” he said, his voice low. “Never saw the number 44 look so good, that’s for sure.”

“You’re lucky blue goes with my eyes better than red does,” she said, giving him a wink. “I think blue is my colour.”

“Oh, blue is _definitely_ your colour.”

*

“Come up baby. Come up,” Bee cooed as she patted on the couch. Bruce looked up at her, meowing as he finally jumped up. “Hi baby! Hi Brucey,” she scratched underneath his chin. “You wanna come cuddle with us?”

Instead of cuddling into Bee like he usually did, Bruce began to climb on top of Morgan, exploring and even falling off of him before jumping back on. Morgan watched with an amused look on his face despite being focused on the hockey analysts on TV just moments ago. He had decided he wanted to watch the Stanley Cup Final game – Boston versus St. Louis – if only because his old friend and teammate Tyler Bozak was playing on St. Louis now and Morgan wanted him – and only him – to win. He made that abundantly clear. He only wanted “Bozie” to win.

Bee knew there were going to be a lot of emotions that night. She knew they would be thinking that it could have been Morgan and the Leafs in this position, so she made sure to prepare accordingly – extra buttery popcorn, chocolate chip cookies, and Sweet Chili Heat Doritos were already in bowls in front of them on their coffee table, just in case. And because she knew he would need it, she designated herself to be the big spoon. As they cuddled on the couch, Morgan laid his head on her chest instead of the other way around, like it usually was. She was already running her fingers through his hair gently as he had watched the pre-show.

“He’s definitely his mother’s son,” he commented as Bruce meowed, participating in a delicate balancing act of walking along Morgan’s legs.

Bee gave him a playful side-eye. “Is that supposed to be a compliment or an insult?” she asked.

“You decide,” he winked. Bruce meowed again. “He definitely has Springsteen’s voice, that’s for sure,” Morgan giggled.

“He wants the world to know he has something to say,” Bee said. “Don’t you, Brucey?” Another meow as he walked back up Morgan’s legs, causing them both to laugh. “Come cuddle, Brucey. Give us a concert another time,” she patted the spot on the couch in front of her again.

“Maybe he’s trying to say he wants St. Louis to win,” Morgan mused.

“Maybe he’s telling Nick Kypreos to shut up,” Bee mused as well, garnering a snort from Morgan. “Then he’d _really_ be his mother’s son.”

“You’re something else, Briony McTavish,” he said, leaning his head up to kiss her before snuggling it into her chest again. He let out a content sigh as he continued to watch the analysts speak. “I love this,” he said quietly, almost a whisper.

“You love what?”

“This. Us being like this. Me, you, Bruce,” Morgan said as he scratched Bruce’s ears.

Bee couldn’t help but smile. “Me too.”

The game was decent. Boston lost, which Bee was happy about, and Tyler Bozak won the Stanley Cup, which Morgan was happy about. Bee got to watch Brad Marchand cry – a true highlight – and Morgan texted Tyler’s wife Molly a congratulations message, though he was sure she wouldn’t be checking her phone for hours. As they watched the presentation of the Conn Smythe Trophy to Ryan O’Reilly and the official presentation of the Stanley Cup to the St. Louis Blues, Morgan didn’t take his eyes off the screen. Bee made sure she kept running her fingers through his hair. She made sure that her body was as close to his as possible, that his hand keeping warm between her thighs was held on to.

As they watched each of the players scream in pure elation as they hoisted the Stanley Cup, Bee placed a gentle kiss on Morgan’s forehead. “That’ll be you and the boys one day,” she whispered against his skin.

“I know,” he said softly, not taking his eyes off the screen. “One day. And you’ll be out on the ice with me.”


	32. Chapter 31

Briony felt a warmness flow throughout her body as she began to wake up. The light from the early morning was peeking through the curtains, and she could feel a tingling in her legs as she gained more consciousness. Trying to shift away from the light, wanting to sleep in a little bit longer until she had to prepare for her big day ahead, she realized she couldn’t. She tried to move again, only to realize something was holding on to her. She rubbed her eyes open to see a large lump under the covers at her legs. She rubbed her eyes again – maybe she was hallucinating – but when she did, she felt scratches on the insides of her thighs, and gentle lips kissing the skin there. 

She had to be dreaming.

She’d had these types of dreams before, especially when Morgan was away for long periods of time. The intimacy and the touch and the pleasure would feel so incredibly real – only for her mind to maliciously wake her up and make her realize it was all in her mind, that he wasn’t in bed with her. But something about this time felt different. Something about this time felt more…real. And as she woke up more, and felt more scratches and kisses on the insides of her thighs, she couldn’t cope with the red flush taking over her body. 

“M-Mo…” she mumbled, garnering a moan from whatever was happening down below. A kiss was placed dangerously close to her centre and she twitched at the contact. “M-M-Morgan…” she breathed out, grabbing on to the comforter and lifting it.

There he was. 

His eyes looked up at her from between her thighs. “Mornin’ baby,” he mumbled, his voice still laced with sleep, as he continued to kiss her skin and her centre.

“What’re you--”

“Shhhh…” he kissed her centre again, causing her to squirm. “Happy graduation day.”

Bee closed her eyes as Morgan began to lap at her lazily, his tongue moving expertly as it always did despite the early morning and sleep that they had just been under. She ran her fingers through his hair and tugged gently, basking in the feeling as she always did. She couldn’t believe that she got to wake up like this. She was being spoiled rotten and she knew it but oh my god did she ever love it.

Morgan’s hands eventually made their way up her torso, pushing her shirt up to expose her breasts before he grabbed them in his hands, caressing them and pinching at her nipples. Her hands momentarily left his hair to take off her shirt and place them over his. “Morgan, baby…” she breathed out.

“Fuckin’ love the way you taste, baby,” he mumbled into her pussy, garnering a moan from her. 

“Morgan,” she breathed out again, her voice more desperate as he pinched at her nipple. “Morgan it feels so good.”

“You taste so sweet,” he mumbled before sucking on her clit, causing her to squirm and arch her back slightly. She locked eyes with him while he had a devilish grin on his face. “I’m gonna take my time with you this morning,” he warned. “I could bury my face in your pussy all day.”

Bee let out a moan at his words and resolved to let him do his business. If he was going to take his time, if he wanted to be down there all day…she could live with that. Who was she to complain? Who was going to tell him to stop? Not her.

Well…until 10. He could be there until 10 because that’s when she had to leave for her convocation ceremony and she wasn’t exactly the type of person to be late. But that game them at least two and a half hours.

He kept going and going and going, lapping and sucking at her wetness, causing her breath to hitch in her throat and for her to moan out his name in appreciation over and over again. Eventually his hands moved back down to her thighs, holding her hips in place as he got hungrier and more intense. He always did this – making sure her pleasure was in his hands, his responsibility, his crowning achievement whenever they were intimate together – and every time he did it, Bee couldn’t get enough. She loved that her pleasure was in his hands because he took such good care of her. He always fulfilled every need and want she ever had in one way or another, so she had no qualms about any of it. 

Eventually she felt her orgasm beginning to build. She tugged at his hair and tried as much as she could to grind her hips against his tongue, but he was still holding her down. Instead, she squeezed her thighs around his head slightly, pushing his face harder against her pussy. “Morgan, please,” she bit her lip as she felt him suck on her clit again. Her voice was hoarse from how long she’d been huffing and moaning due to his actions. “I’m so close, baby. I’m so close.”

“Wait.”

She couldn’t believe the word she just heard. “What?”

“I’m not finished yet,” he mumbled.

“Morgan.”

“Don’t cum until I tell you,” he said.

Bee brought her hands up to her face. She felt like she was going to explode. “Are you fucking --”

“I said wait,” he growled. “You know how to be a good girl Briony. You can be a good girl, can’t you?”

Oh, that motherfucker. He knew exactly what to say to her to comply. She let out a whimper and nodded her head – not sure if she was doing so reluctantly or willingly. “Yes,” she breathed out. “Yes.”

“That’s my good girl,” he cooed. “Now wait,” he said before lapping at her core more enthusiastically, making it really hard for her to wait when he seemed so hell-bent on making her die of a heart attack or self-combustion before he let her cum. 

She let him continue, trying actively to think of less sexy things so she could last as long as he wanted her to, but after a while it began to get too much. There was only so much she could take, and she began tugging on his hair again to warn him. “Baby, baby, please,” she pleaded with him. “I wanna cum so bad.”

“Wait.”

“I can’t,” she whined. “Please let me cum baby. Please.”

Morgan growled again. He tightened his grip on her hips quickly, and before Bee could realize what he was doing, he flipped them over so she was now on her knees as he adjusted himself quickly to lap at her from behind. “Morgan!” she screamed. Holy fuck. She was going to fucking explode right then and there. “Holy fucking shit, Morgan,” she gripped on to their bed sheets, her legs already starting to feel like mush as her head was buried in the pillows.

“Wait.”

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head. “I ca – I can’t,” she managed to get out.

“Yes you can,” he encouraged her. “You can hold it baby.”

“Morgan please,” she whimpered, unable to take anymore. Even just thinking of the visual of him eating her out from behind was enough to make her get off – nevermind that he was actually doing it. She tried to comply the most she could – she really did – and she didn’t know how long they stayed like that, with her on her knees and him still burying his face into her pussy, but eventually she had waited long enough. She literally didn’t know how much longer she’d last. She could cum at any moment and disappoint him and the teasing game he wanted to play. “Please, I’m begging.”

“You wanna cum Briony?” he asked in between licks.

“Yes.”

“Now?”

“Yes!”

“What do you say?”

She was ready to kill him. “Please let me cum Morgan.”

“What’s my name?”

She was going to murder him. Literally murder him. “Please Mr. Rielly. Please let me cum.”

“That’s a good girl,” he gave her ass a quick smack. “Be a good girl and cum Briony.”

She screamed out loudly as she finally let her orgasm flow through her, her legs shaking and her cries and moans erratic as Morgan lapped up her juices, taking her for all she was worth. Her legs eventually gave way and she collapsed on the bed, but that didn’t stop Morgan from licking up the juices that had trickled down her thighs until he got every last bit. She tried to catch her breath but it was proving near impossible. She rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling, wondering how she got so lucky.

Morgan stood on his knees as he looked down at her, body flushed pink with pleasure, wet and glistening at her core and thighs, hair spread out across the pillow, legs still spread wide. He leaned down to kiss her and she could taste him on his lips. His hand immediately went to her core, like it always did, and he played with her lips teasingly. “Was that good?” he asked.

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” she mumbled, causing them both to laugh. “What do you mean was that good? You know damn well what you do to me. Your neighbours are gonna complain about the screaming one of these days.”

Morgan couldn’t help but smile at her words. “You’re fucking delicious, you know that? I could eat you all day. So fucking sweet.”

Bee smiled. “Now all I’m gonna think about as I walk across the stage today is waking up with your face in between my thighs.”

Morgan snorted. “Fine by me.”

*

“Okay, remember that you need to bring my purse with you – my Chanel one – because I can’t carry it on me. I’m only going to have my phone.”

“Yup.”

“And remember after the ceremony we have to come back quickly to pick up Bruce before we go to the Favaro’s house. I don’t want to leave him alone all day.”

“Yup.”

“Do we have the cat taxi prepped? Do we have the leash?”

“Yup.”

“Okay…” Bee finally took a breath, smoothing out the front of her dress in front of their mirror. It was a nice navy blue, with lace cap sleeves and a high neckline. It fell to her knees, and she knew her graduation robes would cover it all. “God, I can’t believe this day is finally here,” she said.

“It’s going to be a fun day,” Morgan nodded his head behind her, smiling slightly as he sat on the edge of the bed, watching her. He still had two hours to go before he needed to be down at Convocation Hall, and, unlike her, who had been in and out of the washroom, getting prepped and ready for the day, he was still in his pajamas. “C’mere.”

She looked at him through the mirror to see that he was very obviously holding something behind him. She hadn’t even noticed him go into the closet, or his bedside table, or wherever he needed to get whatever he was hiding. “What’s that?” she asked.

“Can you come here and sit?” he asked.

She did as she was told, sitting beside him on the foot of the bed before he leaned over and kissed her quickly. He didn’t want to kiss her too much because he didn’t want to ruin the makeup she’d just put on. “I got you something.”

“Morgan.”

“Don’t Morgan me,” he smiled, pulling out the bag, white and discreet with no label on it – a conscious decision on his part, since he didn’t want her freaking out by seeing a logo. “You deserve it for working so hard. And you should know me by now. Any time I get to spoil you, I’m gonna do it.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at his words. She did know him by now, and she figured he would buy her a gift, but she didn’t want to come to expect it. She didn’t think she’d ever become the type of girl to expect gifts, and truthfully, she never wanted to. Gifts were just that – gifts. They shouldn’t be expected; they should be surprises. She leaned in to kiss him one more time before he placed the bag on her lap. She took out the box – medium sized, red, with the Cartier script along the top. Her body stiffened as she looked up at Morgan. “Baby…” she said, her voice uneasy.

“Open it, Bumblebee,” he encouraged her.

She took a deep breath. She opened the cardboard box and the red jewellery box, revealing a rose gold and diamond paved Love bracelet. Its diamonds sparkled back at her as she gasped at the absolute beauty but simplicity of it. “Morgan,” she whispered.

“Do you like it?”

“Morgan, it’s stunning,” she said, delicately taking it out of its casing and examining it. Her heart fluttered with anxiety as she looked at all the diamonds, as she felt the rose gold between her fingers, as it shined bright in the sunlight through the window. She didn’t want to think about how expensive it was. She didn’t want to have anxiety about that sort of stuff anymore, since she had agreed at the cottage that Morgan could buy her things without her feeling uncomfortable. She knew that was easier said than done, but if they were going to be together, it was going to be a fact of her life. “I can’t…I can’t believe--”

“Let me put it on you,” he said tenderly, taking it from her hands delicately and taking the little screw out of the box too. “The lady at the store showed me how to do it. Which hand do you want it on?”

Bee instinctively held up her right hand, the hand that the bee bracelet he got her at Christmas always went on since she wore a watch on her left. She watched as he unscrewed the bracelet before clasping it around her wrist, using the screwdriver to screw it back in place tightly. Her eyes moved from the bracelet to him, smiling at the concentration on his face, the screwdriver so tiny in his massive hands as he rolled it between his fingers to tighten the screw. “You know you can’t take these off, right? Unless we do this over again.”

“I know,” Bee nodded her head. She’d seen one on Aryne, who never took it off. Same with Steph. Even Ashley always wore a few and never took them off – she was actually the one who told Bee about them. But theirs looked plainer than this one, if she remembered correctly – more metal and less diamonds. Of course Morgan had to go all out. Of course he had to get this one.

“I want you to wear this today and always,” he said. “Because I love you. And because every day, whatever you’re doing – if you’re working or you’re grocery shopping or you’re cooking – I want you to look down at that bracelet and know that you deserve it, Bumblebee.”

Bee nodded her head. She refused to cry. She looked at the bracelet fastened onto her wrist, and she looked at Morgan, and she nodded her head.

*

Don’t fall. Don’t fall. Don’t fall. Don’t trip, either, and don’t fall. Don’t fall. Don’t fall.

“Jason MacSweeney, Master of Financial Economics,” the boy in front of Bee walked across the stage. She stepped up, looking out into the crowd momentarily to see if she could find Morgan, or Angie, or Mason. When she couldn’t, she refocused her attention to where it should be: on stage.

“Briony McTavish, Master of Financial Economics,” he finally called her name.

She couldn’t help the giant smile that appeared on her face as she heard her name called. She began walking across the stage, and as she did, she heard a loud whistle from the audience. She knew that was Morgan. She giggled slightly as she approached the president of U of T and the heads of her program, shaking all of their hands before being handed her diploma. She posed with the president quickly for a picture and she heard another loud whistle mixed in with a “Woooo!” before she walked off the stage.

She was Bee. Briony McTavish of Toronto, Canada. A Master of Financial Economics. A graduate of the University of Toronto. A junior financial analyst at Scotiabank. 

*

The second Briony saw Angie, Mason, and Morgan congregated together, on the lookout for her as she exited Convocation Hall, she began running over to them. Angie saw her first and began screaming, outstretching her arms as they began to run towards each other. When they met, they grasped each other tightly and began rocking back and forth.

“I’m so proud of you,” Angie mumbled as they stayed hugging. “You have no clue, Bee. Everything that you’ve done since I met you. Everything you’ve overcome in your life. I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Bee said. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Yes, you could have.”

Bee shook her head. “No, I really don’t think you realize. I really, really couldn’t have done it without you.”

Angie shook her head, rolling her eyes playfully before quickly wiping a tear that fell to her cheek. “Your loverboy is waiting for you,” she said, stepping out of the way to reveal Morgan.

He stood watching them in his blue and white gingham suit jacket, white shirt, and navy pants, holding a giant bouquet of flowers for her. He extended his arms to hug her, and she pulled him down and kissed him. “Congratulations. I’m so proud of you Bumblebee,” he mumbled against her lips before kissing her again very quickly. “You make me so proud.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” she repeated her sentiments.

“Nah. You would have been fine without me,” he said. “I’m just eye-candy. I’m Pinky and you’re The Brain.” She snorted, shaking her head before kissing him again. He handed her the bouquet and watched as she took time to smell the roses, a smile appearing on her face. “I have a surprise for you,” he whispered.

“Another one?” she asked.

He nodded, moving out of the way. Bee screamed at what she saw – who she saw: Andy and Shirley waving, giant smiles on their faces. Shirley was wearing a cute floral dress with sandals, Andy wearing a tan sports jacket with slacks. She hugged them tightly, her mouth gaping open in shock. “What are you guys doing here?!” she asked.

“Morgan told us a while ago and we knew we’d have to make it out to see you graduate,” Shirley revealed, squeezing Bee’s hand. 

“We wouldn’t miss it!” Andy added. “We know how hard you worked for this and we wanted to be here for you.”

Bee couldn’t help but hug them again; eternally grateful that they were here, that they flew all the way out to Toronto just to see her walk across a stage and collect the most expensive piece of paper she’d ever hold in her life. She knew they were good people – she established that long ago when she first went to Vancouver – but this just cemented it. They were the best, like Rocco and Clarette.

“Mignonette!”

Speak of the devil. 

“Heeeeeyyyyyy!” Bee smiled from ear to ear at the sight of Rocco and Clarette, tears ready to stream down her face. God, it was like a family reunion on the grass of the quad. She hugged them both simultaneously. “You guys! Thank you for being here!”

“Are you kidding? You really think we’d miss this?” Rocco smiled.

“I just thought you’d be knee deep in gnocchi right now,” she winked.

“Oh, I will be very soon,” Rocco nodded his head. “But we need to take lots of pictures first. Gnocchi can wait.”

Bee felt like a Barbie doll as she posed for photos. First with her diploma, then with her flowers. Then with both. Then with Angie. Then Mason joined. Then with Rocco and Clarette joining them. Then with Morgan, with flowers and the diploma. Then with Morgan and his parents. Then a giant group shot.

She’d have to frame them all. 

*

“Rocco’s mom actually taught me all the Italian dishes,” Bee overheard Clarette and Shirley’s discussion through the window in the kitchen as she relaxed on the deck in the backyard. Clarette had prepped the ingredients for the homemade gnocchi and was teaching Shirley how to make them. Further into the backyard, Rocco was showing Andy the size of his garden, giving him tips on how to grow his own eggplant and cucumbers – only two of the many vegetables Rocco grew himself. Andy was so entranced by the size of them, listening intently to every little tip. Josh and Mason were playing fetch with Sarah Jessica Barker, tiring her out so she wasn’t as snippy and upset about Bruce being over. Morgan was busy on the barbecue, grilling the lamb, chicken, and veggies they’d feast on after the gnocchi. 

Everything was perfect.

“You never thought you’d be here, did you?” Angie’s voice interrupted Bee’s observations. She was curled up in her own patio chair with Bruce sleeping in her arms, his leash and harness still on, but staring directly at Bee. 

Bee knew where she was going with the question and didn’t want to burst out crying during her own graduation party. “I thought that behavioural economics course was gonna be the end of me,” she said.

“No no, don’t deflect,” Angie shook her head. “You never thought you’d be surrounded by so much love.”

Bee looked directly at Angie. She saw Bruce sleeping in her lap, Rocco and Andy kneeling down to look at lettuce, Morgan on his phone as he stood in front of the barbecue, Mason lying down on the grass as Sarah Jessica Barker licked his face. She could feel her cheeks flush red as she tried to keep it together. “Never in a million years.”

Angie smiled slightly. “Remember that phone call after you learned Morgan bought you all that stuff after the break in?” she asked. Bee nodded her head. “Do you remember what you asked me?”

Bee nodded. “I asked you why he was so good to me.”

“Remember you tried to say that you weren’t worth it?”

Bee took a deep breath. She nodded her head again. “Yeah. I do.”

“Do you see how that’s changed?” Angie asked, not breaking eye contact. “That all these people are here for you, and only you, because they love you? Do you see how much you’re worth it now?”

A stray tear fell down Bee’s cheek, and she quickly wiped it away. She hesitated briefly before nodding her head. She didn’t say anything out of fear she’d completely break down. It was a long and hard process, but she saw it. She saw it now. 

“And you were worth it since day one,” Angie continued. “I’m not talking about day one, the day you and Morgan met, or day one, the day we met. I mean day one, the day you came into this world. You’ve always been worth it, Briony. The fact that you finally see that is all I’ve ever wanted for you.”

Bee continued to nod her head, wiping away another tear that fell from her cheek. “I just feel so…full,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I’m not…I’m never…I’ve never been so happy.”

“Let’s keep it that way, hmm?” Angie smiled, leaning over to grab Bee’s hand and squeeze it gently. “Now, I want all the details on that new Cartier bracelet because it’s been blinding me since outside Convocation Hall.”

Bee couldn’t help but giggle as she received an alert on her phone. She stuck her hand out for Angie to inspect her new bracelet as she took her phone out of her pocket to see a notification that she had been tagged in something on Instagram. When she opened the notification, she saw a post from Morgan. He had uploaded a series of pictures – pictures they’d posed for together outside Convocation Hall with the bouquet of flowers and her diploma, but also unexpected pictures he took of her throughout the day of her smiling, laughing, and adjusting her hood. Anybody could see that the person behind the camera loved the subject of the photos. It was the caption that warmed her heart. 

So proud of you Briony, today and always, as you graduate with a Masters of Financial Economics from the University of Toronto. The smartest. The most hardworking. The most beautiful.

A loud meow from Bruce temporarily distracted her. Angie took care of it, petting him, while Bee looked over at Morgan, who was already looking at her. Seeing that she was holding her phone, and knowing she saw the notification, he gave her a quick air kiss. She blew him one too, settling back into her seat. 

*

“Andy, you’re not really going for your third piece of tiramisu are you?”

Andy stopped dead in his tracks at his wife’s question. “Shirley, this is the best tiramisu I’ve ever had in my life.”

“Oh! I love him! I love him!” Clarette exclaimed, reaching across the table to grab Andy’s hand and raise it in the air. Everybody laughed at her reaction, and she even went so far as to hug him. “I love him! I want him here all the time!”

“You better watch out, dad,” Morgan warned jokingly as he sat back in his seat holding Bee’s hand on his lap.

“Oh don’t you start,” Andy rolled his eyes, garnering another laugh from everyone. “I’m on vacation. Plus it’s a cause for celebration,” he nodded his head towards Bee. “As long as the chef appreciates that I’m eating three pieces of tiramisu that’s all that matters.”

“Hey, isn’t it a good time for us to give Bee her gift?” Josh asked, wiggling his eyebrows while looking directly at her.

Bee’s face dropped. “Gift? What gift?” she asked suddenly as she saw Clarette jump up from her seat and make her way into the house.

“It’s just something small, mignonette,” Rocco said. “Something small and right up your alley.”

Bee whipped her head towards where Angie was sitting beside her, who shook her head dramatically. “Don’t look at me.”

“Here you go mignonette,” Clarette called out, carrying a small, flat box from inside the house and placing it in front of Bee. 

Bee thanked Rocco and Clarette as she read the card, signed by everyone, before setting it aside and ripping open the wrapping paper. A large, professionally bound book greeted her, except she didn’t recognize the cover. Upon further ripping of the wrapping paper, Bee saw an embroidered spoon, fork, and knife, and was able to read the cover: Il ricetarrio della famiglia Favaro.

Bee’s mouth gaped open as she looked between Rocco and Clarette. “Is – Is this…”

“Clarette spent the last year compiling all of our recipes, and then Joshua found this really cool website where you can make your own cookbook! It puts it all together and you put the pictures and everything,” Rocco explained as Bee flipped through the pages. Morgan leaned over to take a look at it as well. “You might find some stupid photos Josh included, but besides that, all the recipes are there.”

“We only made four,” Clarette said. “For members of the family. One for us and one for each of our kids. So that’s your personal copy.”

Bee was only able to keep it together because she saw a picture of Josh arranging meatballs and sausages into the shape of a penis. Without saying a word, she got up from her seat and went to hug Rocco and Clarette individually. There were no words she could say to show her gratitude, to truly show how much she appreciated them and what they did for her – not just the cookbook, but everything. “You guys don’t even know,” she mumbled as she hugged Clarette. “You don’t even know.”

“We do, mignonette. We do.”

*

Bee –   
Congratulations on your graduation and your MFE. We are so proud of you and we are so lucky to call you a friend. We know you will do great things!  
Love Jake, Lucy, and Henry Gardiner

Bee,   
I can’t believe how close we have gotten over the course of this season. I remember one of the first games you ever came to you pulled out your homework during intermission and began working. That’s when I knew we’d be great friends. You have achieved something great today and I cannot wait to see where your hard work, dedication, and resiliency will take you. You are going to rule the world…just remember John and I when you do.  
We love you so much,  
John, Aryne, and baby Tavares

Bee,  
As the only other important woman in my life besides my mother, I feel the need to write you this card to congratulate you on your graduation. You have made Mo a better person but this graduation and your MFE just proves how much better you are than him. Seriously, what are you thinking?  
All jokes aside, I am very proud of you. I can’t wait to see what you’ll get up to. When hockey is over you need to hire me as your receptionist and then help me with my money.  
Your favourite,  
Tyler

Bee!  
Congratulations on your graduation! It has been so great becoming your friend. I can’t wait for all the adventures we will get up to in Toronto in the future!  
Love Always,  
Naz and Ashley Kadri

*

“Take me from behind baby. How I like it.”

Morgan couldn’t help the flush that took over his body at Bee’s words, chuckling to himself as he looked down at her biting her lip. He shook his head playfully, a smile on his face. “How did I get so lucky, Briony McTavish?” He had already taken his time peeling off her dress, kissing practically every inch of her body as the fabric fell to the floor, only to reveal a new lingerie set she’d been wearing all day. For this moment. The blood rushed throughout his body when he saw her breasts in the tantalizing lace, knowing that she had been waiting for this all day too, and now there would be a delicate balance between taking this nice and slow – like he had planned to – or completely ravishing her. 

Bee propped herself up on her elbows. “How did I get so lucky, Morgan Rielly?”

He bit his lip. He continued to shake his head, taking in the sight of her in her pink lingerie set, ready for him on the bed. Her body was just as flushed as his due to the sensuality of it all. He hooked a finger into the band of her panties and slid them off with ease. “Get on your knees, baby.”

An excited smile flashed across Bee’s face as she did as she did as she was told, propping herself on her hands and knees as she flipped her hair to the side to look back at him over her shoulder. “Just like this, Mr. Rielly?”

“Just like that,” he licked his lips as he stroked his hard cock a few times. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

“I can’t wait for you to fill me up with your cock, Mr. Rielly,” she smiled devilishly. “I’ve been waiting for your cock all day.”

“Mmm, and I’ve been dreaming about your pussy all day,” he said, teasing at her entrance. She tried to push back on him but he pulled away, causing her to whimper. “Patience, baby,” he warned.

“I don’t have patience,” she whined. “I want your cock so bad.”

He began teasing her again, and she tried her hardest not to push back, waiting as patiently as she could for him to slide into her. When he did – slowly – she arched her back at the feeling of him filling her up, moaning out his name as she always did. When he was deep inside of her, he tugged at her hair, pulling her up so her back was against his chest. He kissed from her shoulder to her jaw as he pumped in and out of her slowly. “You’re the most beautiful girl in the fucking world,” he whispered in her ear. He noticed her bite her lip and that her eyes were closed, revelling in the feeling. “You hear me?”

She nodded her head slowly, taking a deep breath. “Yes Mr. Rielly.”

“Morgan,” he corrected her. At the correction, her eyes opened. She turned her head to look him in the eye. “You’re the most beautiful girl in the fucking world, Briony, and I love you more than anything.”

“I love you too.”

“I love every inch of you,” he continued, one arm snaking around her body, his fingers settling on her clit, while the other snaked around the other side, grabbing her breast through the lace fabric. Her breath hitched in her throat at his touch. “Every fucking inch. No matter what anyone says.”

A tingling sensation shot up her spine, and it wasn’t because of his cock. She looked him in the eye and knew that he meant it – he had obviously said these sorts of sentiments before, and she always knew that he meant every word – but this time, it was different. She never doubted that they were true. But, after what she had gone through earlier in the month with Sydney (however intentional or unintentional the comments were), and after what she had to read since Christmas in the inboxes of her social media accounts or what was written about her in blogs online, she appreciated his words more than ever. She appreciated them as his cock was buried inside her, her thick thighs holding her up against his body. She appreciated them as his arm snaked around the flesh of her hips and over the curve of her stomach, teasing her clit with his fingers. 

She gave him a wet, sloppy kiss. He reciprocated readily, biting down on her bottom lip and dragging it with him as he pulled away. “I love you so much,” she said. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“And you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he began rubbing circles onto her clit. She closed her eyes again at the feeling, and he kissed her one more time before nipping at her ear. “Now…do you like when my cock is buried in your pussy?” 

She bit her lip to supress her smile, but her attempt was futile. “Always,” she said. “I love it when you fuck me, Mr. Rielly.”

“Gooood girl,” he cooed, biting down on the skin of her neck. He began leaning his and Bee’s bodies further and further back until they were lying down, her back still flush against his chest, his hands still on her breast and her clit. 

“Fuuuuck baby,” Bee breathed out. Morgan’s constant affinity to…well, surprise her in the bedroom always drove her wild with desire, lust, and thirst. She knew they had a very healthy sex life, and that was beyond thankful for that, but the best thing about it was their willingness to try new things, to be vulnerable or assertive, and have complete trust in each other to do so. 

“You like it?” he asked, whispering into her ear.

“Yes.”

“Feels good?”

She nodded her head. “Your cock always feels good.”

He began thrusting harder up into her; her moans and pants fuel for him to keep going. Her breasts bounced out of the delicate lace and he rid her of her bra quickly, throwing it across the room before his hand returned to cup at her breast. He could feel her body get hot, and her moans were getting louder – with his handiwork at her clit, he knew she wouldn’t last too long. After some more teasing and thrusting, he began to feel her walls clench around him, her body shake from pleasure as she cried out his name. He helped her ride out her orgasm for as long as possible, refusing to stop his teasing until she grabbed at his hand on her clit. Even then, he just went slower, kissing at her neck as he waited for her to catch her breath.

“You didn’t cum with me,” she said, a worried tone in her voice.

Morgan couldn’t help the wicked smile that appeared on his face. “You don’t think the night is just gonna end there, do you?” he asked. “It’s your graduation day, princess. We’re not finished yet.”

Morgan watched as Bee giggled at his revelation, rising from her position so she was sitting on his cock, her ass in plain view for him. She looked over her shoulder. “Good. Now can you spank me?”


	33. Chapter 32

“Get your hand off my butt, baby. We’re in public.”

“I can’t. It’s glued there.”

Bee couldn’t help but snort as she felt Morgan’s hand pat her ass. She looked up at him trying to contain her smile, watching him as he was watching the commotion around them. Friends and family of Zach and Alannah were filing into the foyer of the Art Gallery of Ontario, excitedly looking around at all the decorations around them. They were waiting off to the side for some more teammates to arrive – Fred, Tyler, and William were due to arrive any second according to their texts to Morgan, all solo bachelors for the night, along with John and Aryne (who had flown in just that morning from Sydney and Matt Martin’s wedding in the Hamptons the day before), Nazem and Ashley, Jake and Lucy, Mitch and Steph, Connor and Madison, and Kasperi and Cassie. Some former teammates had even flown in for the wedding, like James van Riemsdyk and his fiancée Lauren, and the new Stanley Cup winner Tyler Bozak and his wife Molly. Bee knew it was going to be a great party.

“What are you gonna do when we have to sit for the ceremony? Am I gonna sit on your hand?” she asked.

“Probably.”

She couldn’t help but snort. “You’re unbelievable.”

Morgan finally looked down at her with a smirk on his face. “What am I supposed to do when you’re wearing _that_,” he said, motioning down to her dress. “Plus I know what you’re wearing _under_ it.”

“_Behave_ yourself,” she warned. “We’re at a _wedding_.”

“Can’t make any promises.”

This was Bee’s first ever wedding. It wasn’t like she was ever invited to them as a kid (and it wasn’t like she and her mother could go even if they were), and considering her age, nobody in her friend group had gotten married yet. When she and Morgan got the invitation, she stared at it for like, five minutes, taking in the gold foil detailing, the heavy cardstock, and all the other bits included, like a parking pass and a map to the Art Gallery of Ontario. It was so luxurious and well designed. The whole wedding was going to be so luxurious if the invitation was anything to go by. When she let Morgan know it would be her first wedding, he told her what to expect, what they day and night would entail, and how there would probably be a lot of alcohol and the hockey boys going a bit crazy. Bee knew she’d have to get a new dress and probably get her hair done, so she made sure to go shopping with Ashley, who helped her pick out her dress, and had gone to a hair appointment earlier in the day so she could get a messy bun done. She was excited, to say the least, and had been eagerly jittery about it for at least a week.

“He’s touching the _buuuuutttt_,” a high-pitched voice mimicked the octopus from _Finding Nemo_. Morgan and Bee both whipped their heads to see Tyler leading Fred and William towards where they were standing. Morgan made no attempt to take his hand off her ass as his teammates approached, though when Bee leaned in to hug them, he was forced to let go.

“You guys are looking quite dapper,” Bee smiled as she gave big hugs to Willy and Fred. They said their thanks and complimented her on her dress before she turned to Tyler. “You look like a vacuum salesman.”

The boys cackled as Tyler’s jaw dropped. “This is a new suit!” he cried out.

“It is?”

“_Bespoke_! From Mo’s guy!” he pointed towards Morgan.

“Really?”

“Garrison Bespoke!” he stressed. “He took my measurements and everything!”

Bee couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh you know I’m kidding, Tyler,” she smacked his arm playfully. “The suit looks great.”

“Thank _God_. This is the most expensive piece of clothing I own.”

“Your hair on the other hand…” she began, a devilish grin on her face.

“Don’t you dare speak about my hair.”

Before the teasing could go any further, the group was ushered to a row of seats about halfway from the front. Morgan sat on the aisle seat, Bee next to him as he held her hand in his lap. Tyler sat beside her, with Fred and Willy next to him. Eventually, Kasperi and Cassie snuck in to finish off the row, and John and Aryne settled in right behind Morgan and Bee, along with Jake and Lucy, and Nazem and Ashley. Music was playing from a set of speakers high above them (Bee imagined the DJ had set them up – no way would an art gallery be blasting music in those speakers) as the traditional ceremony began. Bee smiled when she saw Zach walk down the aisle to the chuppah with his parents. Zach looked so dapper in his suit, and he looked nervous as he joked around with his groomsmen. When Alannah began to walk down the aisle, Bee couldn’t help but become emotional at the sight of her. She looked so beautiful in her dress, her long blonde hair in perfectly done waves and her veil extending behind her like a princess. Bee shed a tear as Alannah finally met Zach at the end of the aisle, who had already wiped away a few tears himself.

Morgan continued to hold her hand lightly in his lap throughout the ceremony. His fingers were loose around hers, and his thumb grazed the back of her hand tenderly throughout the whole ceremony. She could feel him looking at her at certain points, and when she’d turn her head to look at him, she’d see him gazing at her, his eyes glossed over with an emotion Bee couldn’t quite discern.

The moment came when Zach had to break the glass. As he stomped his foot down, the glass in the napkin shattered and everybody screamed the traditional “Mazel tov!” and began a round of applause. The music started back up again as they walked back town the aisle hand in hand. Bee looked up at Morgan once Zach and Alannah reached the end, their wedding party following behind them.

“Now it’s time to party,” he winked at her.

*

Cocktail hour was exciting and full of food. They had a raw oyster bar that kept getting restocked, a sushi station, passed hors d’oeuvres, and a “cheese” cake – literally wheels of cheese imported from Italy stacked on top of one another. Bee couldn’t get enough, especially of the cheese cake, and Morgan ate so many oysters she thought he wouldn’t be able to eat dinner (Morgan _always_ had room for dinner). He also had room for drinks – lots of drinks, because fuck, a teammate was getting married and they needed to celebrate every fifteen minutes with a toast to Zach, a toast to Zach’s dad, a toast to the chuppah. Bee milked her gin and tonic for most of cocktail hour, watching as the bartenders poured drink after drink for the boys. Morgan made sure to keep his hand in its place (read: on her ass) whenever he wasn’t eating or having a drink with the boys, and this time, Bee appreciated the contact a little more.

When they were ushered from Walker Court to Baillie Court for dinner, Bee picked up hers and Morgan’s place card. The giant table they were seated at saw her and Morgan sitting with Jake and Lucy, John and Aryne, Kappy and Cassie, Fred, Willy, and Tyler. The other “hockey table” beside them constituted Tyler and Molly, James and Lauren, Connor and Madison, Mitch and Steph, and Naz and Ashley. They were definitely the loudest section of the room, tucked into their own little corner relatively close to the head table.

As they began to sit down in their places, Bee was in the middle of a Fred and Morgan sandwich. Being squishes between two giant hockey players was probably the dream of a lot of girls, but Bee felt like she had T-Rex arms and wondered how she’d be able to eat her meal without elbowing her boyfriend and good friend. Morgan’s hand immediately went to her thigh. “Morgan, Fred is _right_ here,” she warned, her voice low as she whispered in his ear.

He turned to her. “I can’t stop thinking about what’s under that dress,” he said, much, _much_ louder than he intended. It was clear the alcohol was coursing through his veins and he either had no filter, no shame, or no concept of how loud his voice was.

Either way, Fred snorted beside her. Bee gave Fred an exasperated look as he continued to smirk and giggle. “_Morgan_,” she said sternly. “Keep your voice down, _please_.”

“Yeah Mo. If I really want to I could reach over and put my hand on your thigh, too,” Fred chirped in, doing just that, leaning over Bee’s body and squeezing Morgan’s thigh. “Never mind asking to see what’s under that suit.”

“_Oh my God_,” Bee grimaced before she facepalmed. The last thing she saw was Fred wiggling his eyebrows and Morgan wiggling his back at him. Apparently everybody else at the table was too busy in their own conversations to see what was going on. “Please hold off until we start dancing. I don’t think everyone else at the table will appreciate your shameless flirting while they eat.”

After Zach and Alannah’s first dance (Bee _definitely_ cried) but before dinner began, Zach’s dad made a heartwarming speech about their families coming together. Zach and Alannah were high school sweethearts, so he spoke about how much they had grown together and how he was so happy to “finally have a daughter” in Alannah. After the first course, their best man and maid of honour also made their speeches, which were hilarious and poked fun at the couple, all while celebrating their friendship and love. Lastly, after the main course, Zach and Alannah gave their own speech to both laughs and tears from the guests in attendance. Throughout the speeches, Morgan rested his arm on the back of Bee’s chair and she leaned back into his chest. She could feel him rest his cheek on the side of her head and couldn’t help but smile at him being so unapologetically affectionate. She didn’t know if it was just him, or the alcohol, or a mix of both. In a room surrounded by love for Zach and Alannah, she felt fortunate to know Morgan still couldn’t help but show his love for her, too.

Then, the party started.

The DJ opened the dancing with some Rihanna, and everybody crowded the dance floor quickly. Bee, Aryne, and Lucy began moving their hips along to the music, the boys dancing awkwardly as they always did – probably because the food had softened their buzz and they didn’t _feel_ the rhythm as much. Song after song, the DJ kept the dance floor full. Eventually, the boys were pulled away from some drinks and shots at the bar, and the girls met up with the others, taking group photos and posing with their hands rubbing Aryne’s bump.

When the DJ began to play a slower-tempo song, Morgan returned to the dance floor, grabbing Bee’s hands and twirling her into his body as they moved to the beat of the music. With his one hand on her lower back and his other holding hers against his chest, he looked down at her and gave her a quick peck on the lips. “I lllllove you, you know that?”

Bee couldn’t help at his slight slur of his words. She wondered how many shots he downed at the bar while she was dancing. “I do. And I love you too.”

He bent down slightly so he could whisper in her ear, although, with the alcohol running through him, she knew his whispering would probably end up be screaming, just like it was at the dinner table. “I know I’m not supposed to say this but you’re the prettiest girl in the room. Even with Alannah in her wedding dress.”

Bee couldn’t help but give him a look – somewhat appreciative, somewhat disapproving. She knew now that it was the alcohol talking. “Stop.”

“I’m being serious. This dress is doing things to me,” he said, his hand wandering further down her back.

“Eeeeeeeasy cowboy,” she giggled, grabbing his hand and bringing it back up to its previous position at the small of her back. “There are family members around. Don’t want them getting a bad impression.”

“Imagine if they knew how loud you scream my name.”

A shiver ran up Bee’s spine at Morgan’s words. “_Morgan_.”

“Imagine how loud it’ll be tonight,” he continued, whispering into her ear. “Imagine how loud you’ll be after I peel that dress off of you and call you my good girl.”

“Morgan, _stop_,” she stressed, looking beyond Morgan to see Lucy pouting her lip at them, mouthing the words _‘So cute!’_. If she only knew what he was saying instead of the sweet nothings she probably _thought_ he was saying. There were a lot of people on the dance floor, too, and God help her if one of them had supersonic hearing.

“Is it pink?”

“Is _what_ pink?”

“Whatever’s under this dress.”

Bee couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “You’re just gonna have to wait and see,” she said coyly. “Besides, by the rate you’re drinking now, you might not last long enough to see me in it.”

_That_ got Morgan’s attention. He looked at her wide-eyed, shaking his head. “No. No. No,” he said quickly, garnering a giggle from Bee. “I am not – no – I am _not_ passing out before I see what’s under there.”

“Good choice, Morgan,” she winked at him.

A grin still managed to make its way across his face. They continued to slow dance together. Bee noticed Aryne resting her head on John’s shoulder as they danced together. She even saw Kappy and Willy dancing together, holding each other in their arms as Cassie filmed it. They were already hammered. Cassie would have her hands full tonight. “I still meant what I said before. You’re the prettiest girl in this room,” Morgan said again, smiling down at her. “You’re the prettiest girl in _every_ room.”

“You flatter me too much.”

“Cause you deserve it.”

Bee couldn’t help but smile, leaning her head in the crook of his neck. “And you’re the best boyfriend in the world,” she whispered, relaxing in his arms.

Eventually, everybody came back out onto the dance floor. Connor Brown had a tray full of shots for everyone and Fred carried other drinks for them, including a gin and tonic for Bee, and they all began to dance some more. She felt slightly buzzed as she danced along with everyone, laughing and giggling and incorporating some truly heinous dance moves. When the DJ played Lizzo – a four song set of “Boys”, “Good as Hell”, “Juice”, and “Truth Hurts”, everybody went crazy. The girls were singing along at the top of their lungs, dancing and acting out the lyrics as much as possible. The boys, to their credit, were graciously playing along, dancing and moving their hips, pointing to their bowties during “Boys” and pretending to check the girls’ nails and flip their non-existent hair during “Good as Hell”. Tyler – a surprisingly excellent dancer – ended up dancing with Bee and swinging her back and forth along to the beat of “Juice”, indulging her by pretending to grind up against her when the lyrics “The juice ain’t worth the squeeze if the juice don’t look like this”. Everyone around them whooped and hollered as Morgan danced towards her too, backing his ass up towards her body on the other side, putting her in a hockey-player-grinding-sandwich. Bee was laughing so much she couldn’t dance anymore, covering her face until Alannah pulled her out and subbed Zach into the sandwich so she could dance with her.

When the DJ played an entire 90s-Eurodance set, the European boys went nuts. Kasperi and Willy went crazy with their dancing and jumping around, and Fred – _oh my God, Fred_ – he was doing it along with them, his big body jumping and grooving along to the music that he apparently loved so much. Perhaps he had fond memories of it growing up. In any case, everybody eventually joined in with them, Cassie filming the whole thing on her phone.

When the DJ announced the late night food stations, the girls still didn’t leave the dance floor since the music was so good. Instead, the men left and came back soon after with the goodies – poutine, Angus beef sliders, grilled cheese sandwiches, and fried chicken. When the boys brought the piles of food back, the girls screamed in excitement.

“I brought you poutine,” Fred smiled drunkenly as he showed her the steaming bowl of fries, gravy, and cheese curds. Aryne was already digging into a grilled cheese sandwich and Cassie was filming herself eating a fry dangling from Kasperi’s mouth. “I already ate some. Sorry.”

“You brought me _poutine_?!” Bee was ready to cry at his words. Fred nodded his head, a giant smile on his face as he set the bowl down on the table. Bee wrapped her arms around his big shoulders and pressed a kiss onto his cheek. “Freddie, you are the absolute _best_ person on the planet.”

“Hey, what am I, chopped liver?” Morgan demanded playfully, holding a plate of fried chicken. “I brought you fried chicken!”

“Well I’m eating the poutine first,” she stuck out her tongue at him, grabbing a fork and digging into the poutine.

Another shot at the bar with Zach, Alannah, and all the hockey guests happened after everybody finished eating, followed by another gin and tonic for Bee. Group pictures – _so_ many group pictures – were posed for (and no doubt uploaded to Instagram). More dancing with Fred and Tyler, more slow dancing with Morgan. By the end of the night, everybody watched from the sidelines as Zach and Alannah danced to their last dance together.

Morgan and Bee stood off to the side, Bee’s back to his chest as he had his arms wrapped around her waist. Bee could feel Morgan’s chin resting on top of her head, and slowly but surely, he moved down so he could rest it against her shoulder. When she shifted her eyes to look at him, she saw a simple, loving smile on his face.

His eyes were looking at Zach and Alannah, but his mind was elsewhere.

*

Morgan and Bee were giggly as they stumbled into his apartment, kissing whenever they could, grabbing wherever they could. Bee worked on untying Morgan’s tie while his hands were busy groping her ass through he dress. He kicked off his shoes and she hers, and he helped her unzip her dress to reveal her pink underwear and bra. He drunkenly grabbed handfuls of her ass before they fell onto the bed together, dragging each other further onto the bed as Morgan’s large body loomed over hers. She worked at the buttons of his shirt before pushing the material off, then worked at his belt as he kissed her all over – wet, sloppy kisses; butterfly kisses; nipping kisses that left soft bite marks on her skin; long kisses that were sure to leave hickeys.

The way he was kissing her felt different tonight. It wasn’t that he was holding back. And it wasn’t that he was drunk, either (well, half-drunk – he had the wherewithal to be gentle with the zipper of her dress so he didn’t break it). It just felt…_different_. There were moments where he’d stop and look at her, his mouth open as their lips traced each other’s, but his blue eyes would be piercing hers, as if he couldn’t believe she was below him, her legs wrapped around his torso pressing his body against hers. Then he’d start kissing her again, and his hands would wander along her sides, and it felt like there was even more meaning than there usually was behind his kisses. Like there was something he was trying to say with them, something that he couldn’t say with words, or something that he was trying not to say.

“Our wedding’s gonna be all flowers,” he mumbled suddenly against her lips.

Her body stiffened slightly at his words. Okay, so maybe he had no filter right now. Maybe the alcohol was still coursing through his veins and he was a bit more than half-drunk. “Flowers?”

“Mmm,” he smiled, biting her bottom lip. “Cause you love them so much. Lots of flowers. All the flowers in the world.”

She couldn’t help but smile at his reasoning. The fact that he was even _thinking_ about this stuff, and then saying it with no filter, made the butterflies in her stomach flutter. She knew it must have been because of the wedding. She couldn’t help but feel a sense of giddiness. They always said drunk words are sober thoughts, and, well…she was going to get to the bottom of this. “What else?” she couldn’t help but ask.

“Good food. Raw oyster bar,” he continued in between kisses. “You in lace.”

“Lace?” she giggled slightly.

“Mhm,” he nodded slightly, moving down to her neck. “The dress and whatever’s underneath it. You know how lace is my favourite.”

“You’re lucky it’s my favourite too,” she said, moving to unclasp her bra and toss it to the side. “What else?”

“Vancouver or Toronto – doesn’t matter. Just somewhere nice,” he continued, kissing down her body and over her breasts. “You pick. You pick everything. Whatever you want. But the flowers. You love flowers.”

He hooked his fingers into her underwear and slid off her panties, pulling his own underwear down right after. She took the initiative to flip him over so he was on his back, and climbed on top of him to straddle him. She grabbed his cock in her hands and stroked it a few times. She couldn’t help but admit that she loved this. She didn’t know where it was coming from, but she loved it. She wanted more. She wanted to know it all. “Where are we going for our honeymoon?” she smiled, biting her lip as she lowered herself on to his cock.

It took Morgan a few moments to answer – he was too busy relishing in the feeling of his cock inside of her and watching it disappear into her. “Positano,” he gulped. “If I don’t get to take you there before then. So you can see the giant lemons.”

“Oh yeah?” she breathed out, bottoming out, putting her hands on his broad chest.

He nodded, gulping again. His hands squeezed at her hips. “Or Bora Bora. France. Lake Como. New Zealand. Antarctica. Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere with you, baby.”

“Then we’re going anywhere,” he agreed.

Bee couldn’t help but smile as she began to rock back and forth. As the less drunk of the two, she took it upon herself to do most of the work, knowing Morgan would probably appreciate it. “It’s so deep baby,” she moaned, one of her hands going to her clit. “_God_, it’s so fucking deep.”

“I’d go to Turkmenistan if you wanted to go there,” he continued, his mind apparently still stuck on their earlier words.

She couldn’t help but laugh, surprised that he even knew it was a country. “Okay, stud,” she giggled out.

“I mean it. You tell me what you want, where you want to go and we’re going.”

She leaned down so her breasts were pressed up against his chest. She kissed him a few times before smiling at him. “I _want_ you to make love to me,” she purred against his lips.

With a flash in Morgan’s eyes, he took the initiative to wrap his arms around her and flip her over so she was on her back below him. He fucked her nice and slow, and passionate, and loving, giving her the same kisses as he was earlier, a mix of sticking his tongue down her throat and tracing his lips onto hers as he looked down at her, his big blue eyes searching for something within her that she didn’t know he was looking for.

“You think about this stuff too, right?” he asked, his tone of voice almost worried as he looked down at her.

She nodded her head. Yes, she did. She _did_ think about this stuff. She thought about what her future would be like with Morgan. She thought about marriage, about children, about raising a family. She thought about growing together. How could she not? He was the love of her life. It was so clear that he was. He was everything that she could have asked for in a partner, and she’d be a liar if she said she hadn’t thought about it. She saw the look in his eyes. She heard his tone of voice. As if he had anything to worry about. “Of course I do,” she kept nodding. “All the time.”

He didn’t say another word. Instead, after some more work on his part, he felt her walls clench around him and he exploded within her, filling her up as he always did, cock twitching at the feeling. She kept her legs wrapped around him as he collapsed on top of her, falling into a quiet, gentle, contented sleep.


	34. Chapter 33

Bee woke up to DMs. _Lots_ of DMs. DMs that accused her of something completely different – not desperate, not clingy, not fat this time – something she’d never thought she’d be accused of.

_THE TEAM CUM BUCKET_

_looks like you’re really getting on all the leafs dick like the fucking slut that u r_

_no better than a fucking whore. the biggest fuckin slut the leafs have ever seen, and that’s saying something. _

_biggest whore in all of toronto. how could u do that to morgan. all u want to do is become famous. your motivation is so clear and u r willing to do whatever it takes. can’t believe you would use someone as sweet as morgan_

_U R SUCH A FUCKING SLUT!!!!! UR SLEEPING W/ FRED NOW TOO AND UR NOT EVEN TRYING TO HIDE IT!!!!! UR THE FUCKING SLUTTIEST PERSON EVER NO WONDER EVERYBODY HATES UR GUTS!!!!! AND TO SHOW IT OFF AT ZACH’S WEDDING? UR SUCH AN AWFUL PERSON WHAT DOES MO EVEN SEE IN U_

_YOU’RE THE REASON EVERYONE WANTS TO LEAVE THE LEAFS_

_Wow, making your way onto the dicks of every member of the Leafs? We knew you were desperate girl but my God. You’d do anything to stay relevant. How could you do that to Morgan? And with Tyler fucking Ennis?! RIGHT IN FRONT OF MORGAN?! You’re heinous. Just fucking die already. You deserve it._

_Slut_

_Slut_

_Slut_

_Such a whore_

_Slut_

_Fuckin whore_

_Slut_

_slut_

_S L U T_

_FUCKIN SLUT_

Bee swore she felt her heart stop beating. Her stomach curled into knots as she read DM after DM expressing the same words and sentiments. She had no clue what they were so angry about and didn’t know what she had done to deserve such hateful language and vitriol to be thrown at her. She turned over onto her side, pulling the comforter over her head so she was alone beneath the covers with her phone. She tapped to open another message.

_U seriously think this is ok????? U r such a fucking slut. Ur at a wedding full of past and current teammates and members of the Hyman family and this is how u act? Ur a trashy fucking whore and I have no idea what Morgan sees in u. I hope he breaks up with u. Literally any girl in Toronto is better than u._

The person had attached two photos, and Bee recognized Cassie’s Instagram handle at the top – they were screenshots of stories she had uploaded last night, Bee figured, and of course they had gotten around. In the first picture, Kasperi and Cassie were the subjects of the photo as they slow danced together, but in the background, Bee could be seen dancing with Tyler. In the second photo, she was kissing Fred’s cheek for bringing her poutine, and Fred had a shit-eating grin on his face.

It was all so innocent – friends celebrating together at another friend’s wedding – but of course people online didn’t see it that way. Scratch that – _crazy_ people online didn’t see it that way. To these girls, she was a slut. A whore. She betrayed Morgan’s trust. She was cheating on him in plain sight, in front of all his teammates, _with his other teammates_, because she was a dirty, trashy fucking slut who had no morals. That was that. There was nothing that could change their minds – they were resolved in this opinion and in making her life a living hell. She could join a convent and become a nun and they would still complain, still tell her the black made her fat or that the habit made it look like she had a double chin. She could never win. They didn’t want her to live her life when all she wanted to do – and all Morgan wanted her to do – was to live her life.

Tears began to stream down her face. She couldn’t help it. Just like when Sydney was making backhanded comments about her appearance, she was only human and could only take so much. A person saying nasty things about her appearance or calling her “desperate” when she knew she was the furthest thing from it was one thing. But people saying nasty things about her character and morals, and about hers and Morgan’s relationship…that hit differently. That crushed her to her core. A fun night with friends celebrating a marriage was now grounds for people to question whether she was cheating on the love of her life with his friends. It made her sick to her stomach.

Just as she was about to lock her screen and find Morgan (judging by the smell of the apartment, he was frying up some bacon in the kitchen), another DM came through. Another picture. This time, it was of comments made underneath the post he made when she had graduated.

_@sydneyemartin: wow @morganrielly that diamond cartier is one hell of a gift **crying face emoji** looks good_

_@morganrielly: not too ‘ghetto’ for you, syd?_

Bee felt her heart drop into the pit of her stomach. She threw her phone down on the comforter and leapt out of bed, hurrying towards the kitchen where she knew he was. She saw him standing over the stove in his boxers and old t-shirt, the spatula in his hands moving back and forth to make the scrambled eggs. When he saw her, he smiled. “Morning, beautiful. Thought I’d let you sleep in and I’d cook breakfast, even though I’m pretty hungover.”

She rushed over to him, almost knocking him over by the sheer force in which she crashed into him and clung onto him for dear life. “Whoooooa whoa whoa whoa, hey…hey…” he cooed as she wrapped her arms around him tightly, her legs even moving to wrap around him even though he hadn’t picked her up yet. “Baby…baby…” he looked down at her, and it was only then when he could see the tears rolling down her cheeks and the redness of her eyes. “Baby, what’s wrong? What happened?” he asked worriedly.

“What if I j-just d-d-deleted Instagram? Deleted everything?” she cried into his chest. “What if I j-just disappeared off the face of the earth so these p-people couldn’t send me m-m-messages anymore?”

At the mention of Instagram and ‘these people’, the blood in Morgan’s veins ran cold and was replaced with anger and rage. His furrowed his brows and looked down at her crying into his chest. “What happened,” he demanded as calmly as he could.

Bee shook her head. “What did I ever do to them do deserve this? Why do they _hate_ me so much?”

“Bumblebee…” Morgan said, lifting her up in his arms as he turned off the stove and brought them to the couch so they could sit down. She stayed on top of him, burying her face into his chest as he kept his arms wrapped around her. “Bumblebee, come on, talk to me. What happened?”

She took a deep breath and wiped away the tears falling down her cheeks before she lifted her head from his chest to look him in the eye. “C-Cassie uploaded these v-videos last n-night, and in one of them, m-me and T-Tyler and dancing in the background, when we were s-slow dancing to Frankie Valli and you and some of the b-b-boys were getting drinks, and in another, sh-she caught me k-k-kissing F-F-Fred on the cheek when he brought the p-p-poutine and you brought the f-fried chicken.”

“And?”

“And this m-morning, I get all these messages calling me a s-s-slut, a whore, that I’m ch-cheating on you and that I’m the biggest whore in Toronto and the t-t-eam cum bucket and--”

“The _WHAT_,” Morgan interrupted, his voice the purest form of anger she’d ever heard. “They called – they – they said _what_ about you?” He didn’t even wait for her to answer. He’d heard the word perfectly fine. “I’m calling Steve Keogh. I’m calling Kyle and I’m calling Shanny and --”

“No, no Morgan, please, _please_,” she shook her head, grabbing at his hands desperately. “You don’t b-b-believe them, d-do you?” she asked, her voice so vulnerable it made his stomach twist in knots. “You don’t th-think I’d cheat on you with _anyone_, right? Let alone a t-teammate?”

“Briony --”

“I love you more than anything Morgan.”

“Briony --”

“You have to know I’d never – I’d _never_ \--”

“Briony, _stop_,” he placed his hands on her cheeks as she began to hyperventilate, tears still falling from her read eyes. “Briony, stop, _please_. I _know_ baby. _I know_,” he kept repeating. “Listen to me. You. Did. Nothing. Wrong,” he enunciated each word clearly. “You did _nothing_ wrong.”

“I would never --”

“Ssssshhhhhhh,” he cooed, giving her a quick kiss to try to calm her down. “Briony, _breathe_,” she said as gently as possible. “Breathe. Breeeeathe. You did nothing wrong.”

“I don’t want you to think --”

“You. Did. Nothing. Wrong,” he enunciated each word clearly again. “Briony, look at me. _Look at me_,” he said, placing his hand under her chin so they could lock eyes. “You are allowed to live your life the way you want to. You are allowed to do that. You weren’t able to for so long and now you can and I don’t want _anybody_ to make you think that you’re not allowed to. You’re allowed to have _fun_. You’re allowed to do whatever you want and not face judgement from other people.”

She took a few deep breaths as she listened to Morgan’s words. Her cheeks were still stained with tears. “But you don’t think --”

“I’m not thinking _anything_ besides punching those people in the damn face,” he said, giving her another quick kiss. “Briony, they’re low-lives. I’m so angry right now I could punch a wall. But I’m angrier about you thinking that you don’t deserve to live your life or that you think you have to live like some sort of nun. You did nothing wrong. We were at a wedding having fun.”

Bee took more deep breaths as she internalized his words. She knew they were wrong – she _did_, she _knew it_ – but it was still tough to stomach. She was just a 23-year-old girl trying to survive in this world and they were attacking her for exactly what Morgan said – for having fun at a wedding. She rubbed at her eyes as she leaned her head into the crook of his neck. He wrapped his big arms around her into a bear hug. “I just don’t want you thinking I would ever do something like that to you. Tyler, he’s…he’s like the brother I never had. Same with Fred. I love them to bits but not the way I love you.”

“You don’t need to explain yourself,” Morgan stressed. “We were all having fun. It’s not illegal.”

“I just don’t understand why other people can’t see that,” she mused, a few stray tears still falling down her cheeks.

She felt Morgan’s chest rise and fall with the deep breath he took. “It doesn’t matter what they think. All that matters is that I love you,” he said. “Remember the first time we hung out? And you took me on that walk around the U of T campus and we ate our sandwiches in the quad? And it felt like it was just us in the middle of the city and no-one else?” he asked. She nodded her head in the crook of his neck. “And you remember our date at Cibo, when you were uncomfortable and felt like you didn’t belong, and I held your hand across the table and told you, ‘It’s just me’?” he asked. Bee nodded her head again. “Same thing Bumblebee. It’s just me. It’s just _us_. All the outside noise doesn’t matter. What matters is what happens between _us_. Nothing else. _Us_.”

Bee felt like crying again. _God_, he was so right. Nothing mattered besides them. Nothing anybody could say could ever take away from how much she loved him, and how much he loved her. None of it mattered. “I love you so much,” she whispered. “You know exactly what to say all the time to make everything better.”

“I will never question if you love me because I know you do,” he said, his tone serious. “You never have to prove you love me. And you never have to take abuse from people, _ever_. You left that behind when you were emancipated from Sharon and I’ll be fucking damned if anybody ever makes you feel the way she did when you were a kid.”

If it was possible, she snuggled into him even more, whimpering slightly, wanting to feel him on every inch of her body as she let more tears fall at his words. He tightened his bear hug on her and stayed quiet, letting her digest his words as he tried to calm himself down from the anger and rage he was feeling. They sat on the couch in silence together until he couldn’t feel her tears on his skin anymore. “Will you do me a favour? Please?”

“What?”

“Please take screenshots and send them to me,” he requested. She raised her head to look him in the eye and he brought his hands up again to caress her cheeks, her red eyes confused at what he was asking her to do. “Please, Bumblebee. I need to send them to Steve and I want to see what we can do about it.”

“Morgan--”

“I want to keep you safe, Briony. _Please_,” he stressed. “I don’t want you to have to go through this. I know that you have for a really long time already and I want it to stop. _Please_. Let me do this for you.”

She looked at him, with his big blue eyes and his dishevelled blonde hair and his blonde stubble, and he looked so concerned, so upset, so vulnerable, so angry, so protective all at once. All she could do was nod her head and lean into the crook of his neck as he wrapped his arms around her in a bear hug again, settling into a silence as she wiped away the last of her tears.

It was a while before Bee spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper. “Who told you what Sydney said?”

Morgan stayed silent. He knew he wouldn’t get away with not answering her question. “Alannah was really upset about it so she told Zach, who told me. Sydney should be ashamed of herself. I had no problem calling her out.”

Bee took a deep breath. She didn’t want to blow the situation out of proportion. “I hope she didn’t tell Aryne. She’d go into premature labour if she found out. She’d be like that dragon on Game of Thrones.”

Morgan couldn’t help but chuckle. He placed a kiss on the crown of Bee’s head and rested her cheek there. “_I_ feel like I can be that dragon from Game of Thrones. I’m ready to burn down the entirety of Long Island for how rude and disrespectful she was to you.”

“Let’s…let’s just not talk about it anymore. She isn’t worth my time or energy,” Bee said, lifting her head from the crook of his neck. “I’m gonna go take a shower.”

*

By the time Bee made it out of the bedroom after her shower (after her skincare routine, after towel-drying her hair, after putting on some comfy clothes), she emerged to find Tyler Ennis in her kitchen. He was already speaking with Morgan, who had his gym bag draped over his shoulder, and there was a brown paper bag on the counter with what smelled like freshly baked bagels. Morgan said he would be going to the gym, despite it being Canada Day, so she was pleasantly surprised that she wouldn’t have to spend the time alone before she and Morgan carried on with their day.

“Your eyes are red. Shampoo?” he asked as he hugged her.

She gave a quick look towards Morgan. She’d hoped the redness had died down enough, but apparently not. “No. Had a bit of a crying fest this morning.”

“Crying? Why?”

“Haven’t you heard? I’m cheating on Morgan with you,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Really? That’s news to me.”

“It’s all over my DMs,” she couldn’t help but smile as he feigned shock. “It’s not just you, by the way. I’m cheating with Fred, too. It’s a big ol’ three-way. My new nickname is the team cum bucket.”

“What the _fuck_?!” Tyler exclaimed as he looked between her and Morgan. “Are you fucking serious?”

“I’ve already texted Keogh about it,” Morgan said from the door. “You two have a good breakfast. I’ll see you in a bit.”

As Morgan left, Tyler looked back towards Bee. “Where did this come from?”

Bee sighed. Tyler didn’t need to know all the fundamentals, but he looked so concerned and she knew she wouldn’t be able to keep it from him. “Cassidy uploaded some videos from the wedding last night onto Instagram. In one of them, you and I are dancing to Frankie Valli. In another, I’m kissing Fred on the cheek for bringing me poutine.”

“And they called you…_that_ because of it?” Tyler asked. Bee nodded her head. “Bee, you can’t…I can’t…I don’t even know what to say to that. That’s _heinous_. That’s completely--”

“Listen, I know you probably want to talk about it but I don’t,” Bee interrupted him. “I don’t even want to think about it. Can we just eat those bagels you brought before I have to share them with Morgan?”

Tyler couldn’t say no. He couldn’t deny her anything right now, especially anything that would make her happy. So he digressed, and they took out the bagels, and toasted them, and added the fresh lox and cream cheese he also bought, and Bee made cups of coffee in her French press, and they sat at the dining table eating and talking and going over their memories of the wedding last night. Tyler remembered dancing to Lizzo. He didn’t remember how many shots he’d had.

The entire time, Tyler had butterflies in his stomach. He didn’t want to have to do this. He hated to do it. He knew how she’d react and he didn’t want to see her upset and sad. But he knew he had to. So when she cleared their plates and mugs, and was loading everything into the dishwasher, he took a deep breath in. “Bee? Can I talk to you for a second?” he asked, his voice nervous.

“Of course. What’s up?” she asked, not looking at him as she loaded the last dish.

He noticed the time on the clock on the stove. “Um…C…Can we sit down?”

Bee immediately turned towards him, her brows furrowed in confusion and worry. “What’s wrong?”

He sighed. He couldn’t meet her eye as he tried to formulate the words to tell her the news. “Bee…listen. I…besides my mother, you’re the only other woman in my life who deserves to know before noon.”

Bee was silent. So was Tyler. They looked at each other for a moment before Bee’s chest tightened. “No.”

“Bee…”

“Not you.”

“Bee --”

“Not you Tyler. Not you. No,” she began to shake her head. Tears began to stream down her face almost immediately once the realization dawned on her. “Morgan said you wanted to stay here. You wanted to _stay_.”

“I did Bee. _I did_. But management…” he said, trailing off. His chest tightened as he noticed her tears. “Listen. I’ve signed with Ottawa. It’s Ottawa. It’s not that far away, Bee. You can come visit. I can come back to visit.”

It being Ottawa didn’t make it any better. He was leaving. He wasn’t going to be on the Leafs anymore, in Toronto, and that crushed her. She knew this day was coming – it nulling over in the back of her mind for a while – but she tried desperately to ignore it. She didn’t want to think about it. Patrick was gone, but Johnsson and Kapanen had signed new deals, so she thought things would be worked out. Jake’s situation was the most precarious for Morgan since they were so close. She didn’t think she’d have to face such heartbreak so early. “Tyler…”

“C’mere, Bee,” he said, extending his arms and giving her a big hug. “It was always a long shot for me to stay here. Ottawa will be a good opportunity for me. I can take on more of a leadership role there with the young guys there.”

She knew he was saying these things to himself as much as he was saying them to her. She didn’t want him to leave. Selfishly, she wanted him to stay in Toronto forever. “How long is it for?”

“One year, eight hundred grand,” he informed her. He could feel her tense up slightly when he revealed the contract length. He knew she was thinking of the possibilities of where he could end up in a year from now. _If_ he ended up anywhere. “It won’t be all that bad, Bee.”

“You leaving is _the worst_, Tyler,” she mumbled.

“Hey…come on. Remember that night when you had that big fight with Morgan and we were in the washroom together? And I told you that you’d never be alone again? That you’ll always have family somewhere?”

She nodded her head. “You said I won’t feel pain if I don’t lose anything.”

“Exactly. “You’re not losing me, Bee,” he stressed. “You’re not losing me. Our friendship isn’t ending. I’m just moving. I mean…hey, I’m still in the same province.”

He had a point. She was crying as if he was moving to Timbuktu when in reality he’d only be four hours away – one hour if she flew. Three and a half, probably, if Morgan sped down the highway like he did on their way to the cottage. “But…it’s _Ottawa_.”

“Aaaaand there she is,” Tyler giggled, causing her to giggle as well as he let go of their hug. “You’re back. Typical Leaf fan, taking shots at Ottawa.”

“I’m still really sad about it,” she said, wiping a tear. “But I’m being selfish. I need to see this as a good opportunity for you.”

“You’re not being selfish, Bee. You’re a regular human being,” Tyler said. “Just don’t forget to be a regular human being when I’m gone.”

*

Ron Hainsey, Connor Brown, and Nikita Zaitsev were gone to Ottawa too by the end of the day, through either trades or by signing a deal like Tyler had. The Leafs also signed Jason Spezza, a veteran player and UFA from the Dallas Stars, to a one-year contract. Jake still hadn’t signed anywhere.

Mitch hadn’t signed a contract yet, either. Bee didn’t understand the concept of offer sheets and she didn’t want Morgan to explain it to her a fourth time, so she didn’t ask, but it was all anyone ever talked about when they mentioned Mitch. She read about his contract demands and possible scenarios and wondered if there was any truth to it. A couple of people mentioned how he wanted a high number, and that was putting pressure on the Leafs organization in being able to re-sign Jake. She didn’t want to sound awful and bitter, but if that was the case, she didn’t know if she’d be able to forgive Mitch. She knew how close Morgan and Jake were – hell, even how close she and Lucy were – and knew how stressed Morgan was about the entire situation from the get-go. If Mitch was being unreasonable in his demands, and those demands affected Morgan in any way, she had no choice but to be angry about it. Morgan was obviously more used to this sort of stuff than she was, but it didn’t make it any easier, especially considering it was _Jake_.

6:57pm. Morgan was loading the dishwasher. Bee was already curled up on the couch under a blanket, waiting for him to join her so they could watch a movie (read: watch _Derry Girls_ because Bee would convince him to). The news had been on since dinner, but now, she was flipping through the channels to get to Netflix.

Her phone vibrated.

Morgan’s phone rang.

Bee wiggled from her position on the couch to retrieve her phone from her pocket. From the kitchen, she could hear Morgan answer his call. On her screen, she saw a text from Aryne.

_Naz just got traded to Colorado._

Bee read the message over and over again, as if English was a foreign language and she didn’t understand the words on the screen. From the kitchen, she heard Morgan’s shocked voice. “Naz got _what_?!” She sat up and looked at him, his jaw dropped as he stood in the kitchen listening to whatever the person on the other end was telling him. “For _Barrie_?!”

Bee’s heart dropped into the pit of her stomach. She watched as Morgan walked over to the TV, grabbed the remote, and changed the channel to TSN. On the screen, Bee saw the words and faces appear before her. _Toronto Maple Leafs trade Nazem Kadri and Calle Rosen to Colorado Avalanche in exchange for Tyson Barrie and Alexander Kerfoot._

“I can’t believe they actually fucking did it, John,” Morgan said into the phone, his mouth still wide open in shock. “I can’t…wait, _what_? They’re retaining 50% of Barrie’s salary? No we just turned it on right now.”

Bee stayed for as long as she could. She really did. It took her a while to internalize the magnitude of the situation. Naz was traded. To Colorado. Ashley. Ashley was due to give birth any day now and she just found out that she had to move to Denver, to an entirely different country. They would have to uproot their family. Their _newborn baby_. Everything that Naz had ever known – ten years in Toronto. He grew up here. He got married here. He lived his life here for ten years.

The analysts thought differently. There were barely any mentions of his contributions to the team for ten years. There were barely any mentions of how he had been a member of the Leafs when they were the worst team in the league, and how he stuck with them, how he believed in the team, the organization, how he worked through hell and high water to make the team successful, helping to bring them from the bottom of the standings to Stanley Cup contenders. There was no mention of a life lived and established outside of hockey in Toronto for ten years. No mention of his marriage, of Ashley moving here to be with him. No mention of the charity he established here, the money he donated to various causes around the city. No mention of how much his teammates liked him and valued his presence in the locker room. No mention of Naz becoming a new father soon.

Instead, mentions of his suspensions. How he was a player who let his emotions get the best of him. How he cost the team the playoffs twice in two years. How he was a wild child kid from London, Ontario who had a tough time establishing himself in the league under the leadership of Brian Burke. Nothing to do with family. Nothing to do with his successes. Everything to do with his perceived problems.

It wasn’t just Naz that was traded. It was Ashley too. And that’s what hurt Bee the most.

When Bee walked out of the room, she was still in shock. She tried calling Ashley, but of course, her line was busy. Bee decided to send a text with the only thing she could think to say.

_I am so, so sorry._

Only when she was alone in the privacy of their bedroom did Bee start to cry uncontrollably. This was the couple that were over at Morgan’s apartment at the brink of dawn with extra clothes when her apartment got broken into. This was the couple that gave up one of their apartments so she could stay in it _rent-free_. This was the couple that helped her move into Morgan’s place months later, never expecting anything in return.

But the media never reported on stuff like that.

“Bumblebee,” Morgan said as he rushed through the door. Seeing her crying, the tears streaming down her face as she sat on the edge of the bed, shattered his heart into a million pieces. He knelt down in front of her and wrapped his arms around her tightly. He knew how much Ashley and Naz meant to her. “C’mere Bumblebee. It’s gonna be okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

“No it’s not,” she cried into his shoulder, her breath hitching in her throat as she continued to sob.

“Bumblebee…” he cooed, rising from his position and still holding her in his arms. She wrapped her legs around him as he sat on the bed.

“Why _them_?! Why _Tyler_?! Why _Naz and Ashley_? _Why?!_” she demanded as she cried into his shoulder.

Morgan wished he had an answer. _God_, did he wish he had an answer. But he didn’t. He couldn’t answer for how tumultuous free agency was. He couldn’t answer for why it had to be Tyler, perhaps her closest friend she made on the team. He couldn’t answer for why it had to be Naz and Ashley, the couple that helped support her at her lowest, most vulnerable point.

“Bumblebee, look at me,” he whispered as he ran his fingers through her hair, trying to get her to calm down. When she raised her head, he saw the same red eyes and tear stained cheeks he had to deal with not even twelve hours earlier. Between the morning, the Tyler news, and this, Morgan felt like he had emotionally lived an entire week.

“I l-l-love them s-s-o much,” she hiccupped. “W-Why do they have t-to l-l-leave?”

“Bumblebee, I can’t answer th--”

“Why does everyone I love leave me?”

If it was possible, Morgan’s heart shattered even more. He tightened his arms around her and placed small kisses on her head and temple to try to calm her down. “Bumblebee, they’re not leaving you. They’re not leaving you. They – they’re leaving, but the friendships, the relationships you’ve built--”

“Th-Th-They’re like my family. M-My f-f-family I’ve never had,” she sobbed out.

“I know, Bumblebee.”

“Why do they have to _leave_?”

“Bumblebee – Bumblebee, they’re not going to leave your _heart_,” Morgan said, cradling her cheek and wiping away tears with his thumb. “Think about it. They might be in Denver and you might be here but they’re never going to leave you like you think they will.”

She was too emotional to take in his words, to internalize them and realize he was right. Her heart was hurting too much to make sense of anything and all she could do was cry. And Morgan could only hold her, hoping that the sense of abandonment she felt would pass, though he knew that was wishful thinking. All he could do was hold her and rub her back as she sobbed into his shoulder and kept asking why.


	35. Chapter 34

It was going to take a while for Bee to comes to terms with the fact that two of her best friends were leaving Toronto. In the past ten days, she had tried to feel less selfish about the situation – how it affected _her_ and how _her_ life would change, how sad _she_ was about it and how _she_ was going to cope with it – and instead focus on the positives – how Tyler being in Ottawa would be a good leadership opportunity for him on a young team, and how Naz being traded to Colorado meant he would still be on a Cup-contending team. She tried to think about the positives for Ashley, too – how Denver was a beautiful city to raise a family in. How the media would still be loud but _much_ quieter than the media in Toronto. How she’d probably be able to check her Instagram and not have DMs flood her inbox or have bunny blogs gossip about her shopping habits at Holt Renfrew based on information they heard from their sister’s friend’s brother’s girlfriend’s hairstylist’s dog walker’s niece who saw her buy her second Yves Saint Laurent bag of the month.

It would be okay.

Bee _had_ to believe it would be okay. Because if any doubt arose in her about the situation, she’d have another crying episode like she did that night of July 1st, where Morgan had to hold her all night, assuring her that everything would be okay, giving her the only answers he could. She kept trying to think of the positives. She didn’t do things to distract herself from the situation – she genuinely internalized the reality of the situation and tried to see the positives as much as possible. It would make her feel better, she thought, about _everything_. And Morgan – bless him – was helping as much as he could. He knew better than anybody that it wouldn’t be easy for her, and so he took it upon himself to ease the pain. No small feat. But he did, because he loved her, because he wanted to see genuine smiles and laughs from her instead of forced happiness. He started a countdown to their vacation to Vancouver. He told her about how nice Tyson Barrie and Alexander Kerfoot (Kerfy, apparently) were, and how she’d like them. How Kerfy was already a good friend because they had grown up together and played together in Vancouver. He bought her bigger bouquets of flowers. They got ice cream more often. He let her cuddle into him however and whenever she wanted, and let her fall asleep on his chest with their limbs entwined and he’d carry her to bed, holding her in his arms the entire time.

Despite the emotional minefield that was July 1st, in the following days, she managed to register herself to write the first exam for her CFA certification in December, and she passed her driving test. She was officially a G2 class driver. Life had to move on. It always did. The only thing constant is change.

So when Morgan told her to get in the car, because he was going to take her somewhere, that it was a surprise, she was excited to. The last time he did so they ended up in Muskoka making love for an entire weekend. She even offered to drive there, but he said that wouldn’t be necessary, because it would spoil the surprise. So she hopped in the passenger’s seat. They got on the highway. And they travelled north. Like, really north. North of the city, to the suburb of Vaughan, where Bee noticed Morgan turn into the driveway of Pfaff Auto, where he had gotten his Porsche, a small smile on his face as they parked the car near the front.

“What are we doing here?” she asked as he turned off the ignition.

“What do you think?” he asked rhetorically.

Before she could answer, Bee noticed a man in a suit outside Morgan’s window, and she nodded her head towards it so it could grab Morgan’s attention. The man waved enthusiastically and Morgan opened the door. “Santi! Hey!”

“Morgan! Nice to see you bud!” he said as Morgan opened the door. “This must be Bee!” Santi waved at her. “How are you Bee?”

“I’m…good,” she said awkwardly as she saw Morgan start to get out of the car. She followed suit and walked around to where the men were standing.

“Morgan mentioned how you had passed your driving test. Congratulations!” Santi said. “We thought it would be a great idea to bring you in and welcome you into the Pfaff Family!”

“Oh?” Bee looked between Santi and Morgan. She stood stiff in between the two men. “Am I…you…you didn’t bring me here to pick out a car, did you?” she asked Morgan, who only smiled. “_Morgan_.”

“Don’t _Morgan_ me,” he said, his response every single time she said his name in that tone of voice. “Let’s go inside and see our options, hmm?”

Bee didn’t really have a choice. They were already there, Santi was already smiling and waving and ready to show her cars, and when they walked inside, other employees waved and shook hands and it was all very nice, but Bee didn’t know what to do. She wondered if anybody could see how out of her element she was. She felt like a visiting Princess Kate being given a tour of something she had no clue about, smiling and nodding along and asking basic questions about things to make it seem like she understood what they were talking about and comfortable with what was going on around her. But she wasn’t. For a person who had never owned a car before, and who had only been in the very basic cars of her friends, she really didn’t have a clue. She knew the names, obviously, but everything else was extra. Everything else was so…_extravagant_.

Santi was nice. Warm. Accommodating. To his credit, he was an excellent salesman and knowledgeable of every little detail about every car or SUV they saw or sat in. He would usher her into the driver’s seat, he’d get into the passenger’s seat, and Morgan would slip in the backseat, and he’d go on and on about all the features. The leather seats. The luxury interior. The beeping sensors for when you were reversing. GPS Navigation. The backup cameras. The sunroofs. The option for add-on DVD players for the backseat. Luxury add-ons here. Luxury add-ons there.

Bee had to write down all the names of the cars so she could remember them all. The Porsche Cayenne Sport, the Mercedes Benz GLS 450, the BMW X7 xDrive 50i, the Porsche Macan Sport, the BMW Alpina B7 xDrive, the Audi A8 L 55, the BMW M5 Competition, the Mercedes Benz S-Class. It was all so overwhelming. There were so many things to remember. Santi didn’t even mention gas mileage. He didn’t mention how much it cost to fill up a tank of gas, how expensive it was to insure these cars, how expensive they were even just to _maintain_. She got more and more nervous the more she thought about it. It filled her with anxiety, being in something that was so expensive.

These cars weren’t for her.

“What’s the price point you’re looking for?” Santi asked as they sat together in the BMW X7. It was a beautiful crossover, no doubt, and Bee liked it, as objectively as she _could_ like a car this expensive.

“We’re not thinking about that today,” Morgan butt in from the backseat. Santi gave him a smile. She looked at him through the rear-view mirror.

“What a guy, eh?” Santi joked, nodding his head towards Morgan. “We’ll take care of you guys, anyway. When Chris comes in he’ll arrange all that. He’ll be so happy to see you.”

“Who’s Chris?” Bee finally piped up.

“Chris Pfaff, the president and CEO,” Santi said. “After Morgan and I chose the Porsche last year Chris made sure Morgan was taken care of. And with Morgan referring some of the other Leafs to us, there’s no way we’re not going to take care of you again.”

Bee wondered what Santi meant when he said ‘take care’, but she knew if she asked she’d seem like an idiot. Maybe it just meant they got a good deal on the car or something. A discount. An add-on for only half the price. $100 in gas gift cards, like she always saw advertised on TV.

After what seemed like sitting in the millionth car, Santi was called away briefly, leaving Morgan and Bee alone for the first time since they parked. They stood beside an immaculate Range Rover. Bee looked over at Morgan, who was already looking at her. “What do you think?” he asked her.

“I don’t want to make a decision today,” she said, knowing he wouldn’t know why. He seemed to be having the time of his life being in all the cars. She never understood boys’ fascination with them.

“What?”

“I don’t want to make a decision today. I don’t…” she shook her head slightly, biting on her nail. “I want to think about it.”

“But they--”

“I want to do my own research,” she interrupted him, not wanting to get into it now. “I just want to go home with all the information he gave me and I want to do my own research and make my own decision.”

Morgan looked at her for a moment. He studied her. He saw the biting of the nail and saw her furrowed eyebrows and he nodded his head. “Okay. Okay. We’ll let Santi know.”

Santi gave Bee his card and told her to call him when she made her decision. She thanked him endlessly for all his help and information, and she and Morgan left Pfaff, beginning the long trek back downtown to their place. Bee sat looking out the window, not saying a word, mulling over everything going on inside her head. Morgan would take occasional glances at her, allowing them to sit in silence until they pulled into the parking garage and into their designated spot. He knew something was going on and he wanted to know.

“What’s wrong?”

Bee felt ashamed. She couldn’t even look at him even though she knew he was looking directly at her. “I don’t want any of those cars,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“What?”

“I don’t want any of those cars,” she said a bit louder so he could hear. “I don’t…I don’t _need_ any of those cars.”

“What do you mean you don’t _need_ any of those cars?”

She sighed. “I only need a car that can get me from A to B. I’m not even going to drive it to work. The most I’ll be driving it is up to Rocco and Clarette’s house or to go grocery shopping. _Maybe_ to go visit Aryne and John. I don’t think I need a ninety thousand dollar SUV to do that.”

Morgan shifted in his seat. “Okay…I get that,” he admitted. “But…I mean, they can help us, you know? The guys at Pfaff can take care of us.”

“Why do you guys keep saying that? What does that even _mean_?” she asked, her voice more assertive now.

“They can gift it to us, Briony. Like the Porsche.”

Bee whipped her head towards Morgan. “_Gift_ it to us? _Like the Porsche_?”

“Yeah.”

“You…” she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You’re telling me this Porsche is a _gift_.”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t pay a lease payment on this thing?”

“No.”

“A financing payment?”

“No.”

“Are you _fucking kidding me_?!” she exclaimed. “This _entire fucking time_ we’ve been driving this car you haven’t had to pay a cent on it except for gas and insurance?” she asked. Morgan nodded his head. “What the _fuck_, Morgan?!”

“Why are you so angry?” he asked, remaining the calm one in the conversation.

“_We don’t need a free car_!” she yelled, unable to hold her emotions back any longer. “We _have the money_ to pay for a car! We have the money to pay for _any_ car we fucking want to and you’re telling me you’re paying _nothing_?! We should be _paying for a car_!”

“What’s the big deal?” Morgan questioned.

“It’s the _principle_!” she began. “This is exactly what’s wrong with this entire fucking system. I grew up with literally _nothing_ by no fault of my own and I was still expected to pay my whole way through whatever came up in my life. You – and I don’t mean _you_ specifically Morgan, but people _like_ you, other hockey players and those stupid Instagram influencer girls from here just dying to hang out with you guys for status and clout – you guys have all this money and yet you get everything for free so long as you put it on your Instagram. It’s _not fair_. It’s not fair when so many fucking people in this city are struggling to get by and working their asses off at minimum wage jobs just to afford rent and the Toronto Maple Leafs are getting free luxury cars.”

Morgan stayed quiet. He knew she was right, like with most things, and he had never considered her perspective before. He had failed to consider the entire situation from her perspective. It was hard for him. He just thought it would be a nice day out. Go to a dealership, pick out a car. He’d take care of it for her, like he promised her he would with everything on that dock in Muskoka. And although she had accepted that, this wasn’t the way she wanted him to go about “taking care” of things. She obviously wanted to do everything fairly. “Briony…”

“I can’t believe you never told me this car was a gift,” she said, her voice much calmer now. “Look, I’m sorry I raised my voice. But we’re not poor. We can afford the financing or lease payments on any car I choose to get. And that’s the way it’s gonna be.”

“Okay,” Morgan nodded his head, his voice soft. “Okay. We can do that.”

“_I_ can do that,” she corrected. “I want to pay for my own car. This entire time I’ve been saving my money and I can afford it. I’ve budgeted it out.”

“But Briony--”

“Morgan--”

“I told you in Muskoka that I wanted to give you the things you want and need in life without you being uncomfortable about it. That I didn’t want you to worry about anything ever again.”

“I know, Morgan, but please, _please_, you have to let me do this for myself. _Please_,” she was practically begging. “I know you want to do that for me. I know. That’s why you brought me to Pfaff today. And I love you and I appreciate it and you _know_ I do but I’m doing this _for me_. You…you have no idea what it means to be to be able to buy my own car with my own money.”

Morgan could hear by the tone in her voice how much this meant for her. He couldn’t deny that he wanted to do this for her – to get her whatever car she wanted, luxury or not – but he also couldn’t deny her the opportunity of being able to get a car herself. For her, it was independence. It was investing in something she never had the opportunity to before. It meant having something of her own, when her whole life, she didn’t have anything to her name. Who was he to deny her that?

“Okay,” he nodded his head again. “Alright, okay. I’m sorry Briony.”

“There is _no_ need for you to apologize,” she said, reaching over the console to grab his hand. “I should be the one who is sorry for raising my voice. I just…I felt overwhelmed in there. It was fun but overwhelming. You’re the best boyfriend in the world for doing something like that for me. You probably think I’m insane.”

“Why would I think that?”

Bee gave him a look. “A girl rejecting a luxury car so she could get a cheaper one? Who does that?”

Morgan smiled slightly, shaking his head. He leaned over the console to give her a kiss. “Briony McTavish does that,” he whispered once he pulled away. “And that’s why I love her.”

“Oh yeah?” Bee smiled slightly.

“Mhm,” Morgan kissed her again. “You’re something else, Briony. I’d do anything for you. And this means so much to you. You’ve put your mind to it. You’ve budgeted it out and you know you’re going to be okay and that you won’t have to worry. I would never take that away from you.”

Before their conversation could advance any further, Morgan’s phone started to ring through the Bluetooth system in the car. On the screen on the dash, Nazem’s name flashed. “We’ll continue this later,” he said before answering the call. “Naz! What’s up? You’re on speaker with me and Bee.”

“Hey guys,” he said into the phone. “You uh…you guys might want to make your way to Toronto General.”

“Why?” Morgan asked.

From beside him, Bee’s jaw dropped. “_Ohmygod_ Naz, did Ashley have the baby?”

“Come quick. Come meet her,” he said, a slight giggle in his voice.

“_Her_?!” Bee screamed. “_Her_?! _Ohmygod_ we’re on our way _right now_.”

*

“Here she is. Baby Naylah,” Naz was smiling from ear to ear as he led Morgan and Bee through the doorway to Ashley’s room. John and Aryne were already there, Aryne sitting in a chair and John leaning against the windowsill as Ashley cradled the tiny baby in her arms.

“Heeeyyyy,” Ashley said gently, a beaming smile on her face. “She’s here. She’s finally here.”

“Oh, Ashley…” Bee cooed, catching a glimpse of the little girl’s face tucked between the swaddling blanket and little hat on her head. “Ashley, she’s absolutely beautiful.”

“How you feeling, momma?” Morgan smiled.

“Labour was about eight hours, but everything was fine,” Ashley said. “We came in yesterday around this time. We’ve just been in our own little world with her until now.”

Morgan smiled and looked at Naz. “Nazem Kadri, _father_,” he shook his head. “Lord help us all.”

“That’s what I said,” John said as everybody laughed. “Father to a girl, nonetheless. She’s gonna make you the biggest sap in the universe.”

“She’s already got me wrapped around her little finger,” Naz shrugged his shoulders, admitting defeat. He was still beaming, still on a high from welcoming his daughter into the world. “I’ll admit it. She’s gonna get whatever she wants.”

“You wanna hold her, Aunt Bee?” Ashley offered.

Bee’s jaw dropped again. “Oh my God. _Oh my God_. Can I?”

“She’s very calm. She just woke up and might need a feeding soon so it’s your only chance,” Ashley smiled. Bee moved closer towards her as Ashley placed Naylah delicately in her arms. “Make sure you support her head. She’s swaddled so she should be fine.”

Bee held Naylah close to her chest, rocking her back and forth. She heard Naylah make little noises and watched as Naylah’s eyes looked up at her, studying her closely. She knew this random, strange lady was _definitely_ not her mom. “Hi Naylah,” Bee cooed. “I’m your Aunt Bee. I’m so glad you’re finally here.” She continued to look down at the tiny baby in her arms, marvelling at her little expressions and tiny features. She couldn’t believe she was finally holding her.

Bee looked up briefly to see everybody smiling at her. “Looks like you’re still the baby whisperer, Bee,” Aryne giggled, resting her hand on her bump. “You’re gonna be back here in two months doing this all over again.”

“Bring it on,” she said, continuing to rock Naylah back and forth and cradling her small head in her hand. “Give me all the babies and the babysitting duties and I’ll be one happy camper.”

As if on cue, Naylah began fussing a little bit, her eyes closing and lips pursing. “Uh oh. Spoke too soon,” Bee said. She tried to calm her down but the attempt was futile. Naylah continued to purse her lips until she let out a small cry. “Looks like someone is hungry again.”

“That’s our cue,” Aryne said, standing up from her seat. “We’ll wait outside until she’s done, maybe go grab some coffee.”

“I’ll let you guys know,” Naz said as they all began to exit. “My sisters are coming back soon, too. You might see them.”

John and Morgan decided to hang out in the waiting room while Aryne and Bee decided to go for a coffee run to the Starbucks. As they were waiting for everybody’s drinks, Bee told Aryne what she and Morgan had been up to that day at Pfaff and the discussion they’d had in the car. Bee explained her reasoning. Morgan’s reaction. Her insistence on getting the car on her own.

Aryne sipped on her own coffee as she listened to Bee. “You’ve always been really principled,” she said. “You don’t need to apologize for anything. I get where you’re coming from. But I also understand where Morgan was coming from. Especially after what you told me he said in Muskoka. Like, I get him wanting to do that for you.”

“Me too,” Bee said. “And I promised him I’d try to stop feeling uncomfortable about it. And I have – I mean, the trip back to Vancouver and this bracelet are perfect examples of that,” she said, flashing the Cartier love bracelet that was still on her wrist. “But I…a car is _different_. I never thought I’d have a car. Now I have an opportunity to get one. I want to get one that’s economical. I don’t want to get a BMW or Mercedes just because I can – well, just because _Morgan_ can. _I_ can’t afford one of those cars on my own. Morgan’s wanted me to save my money all this time anyway. It’s only logical I use it to make the biggest purchase of my life thus far, right?”

“You don’t need to defend yourself, Bee, especially if it’s your own money,” Aryne said. “_Especially_ if it’s your own money. Whatever you buy with what you’ve earned yourself is a big fuck you to everyone. Car, designer bag, shoes, a book – whatever. Fuck anybody who criticizes you.”

Bee was so thankful for Aryne. Whenever she needed a voice of reason, someone to guide her through this crazy life and help her make decisions, she knew Aryne would always be there for her. “You’re the best, you know that?” Bee smiled.

“You’ve told me that once or twice,” Aryne winked. “Listen…on a similar vein of fuck-you purchases and people criticizing you, I need to ask you a question and I need you to be one hundred percent honest with me.”

Bee noticed her sudden shift in tone. “Okay…”

“What did Sydney say to you?”

Bee was speechless. “Wha…” she stuttered out. “What do you mean?”

“I saw her comment on Morgan’s post for your graduation, and I saw what Morgan responded,” she explained. “She had to have said _something_. So what was it and when did she say it?”

Bee took a deep breath. She wondered if she should just run out of the hospital to avoid this conversation. “Aryne…she’s your friend. I don’t feel comf--”

“What did she say, Bee?”

Bee gulped. “Um, so it was the day of your baby shower,” Bee began. “Ashley picked us up and we were driving through Moss Park to get on the DVP and she called it the ghetto. When we came up on a red light I pointed out a building where I used to live and I told her how I grew up there and she was like ‘Well, thank God you got out’.”

“So that’s why Morgan made the ghetto comment,” Aryne connected the two together. Bee nodded her head. “How did Morgan find out?”

“Zach told him, sort of accidentally. Because Alannah was there too and she was really upset about everything that happened and --”

“What else happened?” Aryne interjected. Bee felt like crawling into a hole and dying. “What do you mean ‘everything that happened’? What else was there?”

“Um…I…” Bee tried to look for an escape. “Listen. Um, Morgan doesn’t know this part. He only knows about the ghetto comment. But Sydney…she, uh…she kind of kept making these comments…”

“About what?”

“About me.”

Aryne’s eyes darkened. “What did she say.”

“It’s really not--”

“Briony,” Aryne’s voice was firm. “What did she say.”

“It wasn’t a big deal, Aryne. I dealt with it. She uh, she sort of kept making, um, comments about my body. Saying it was good that I chose that dress I wore with vertical stripes because they were slimming and that’s why it looked good. And then Alannah asked about a deal on yoga pants I got and Sydney piped in and said she could recommend a personal trainer for me and that they’d ‘definitely help me with everything I need done’,” Bee used air quotes because she remembered the words said to her so vividly.

“She said _what_?” Aryne seethed. “Are you kidding me?”

“Aryne, it wasn’t a big deal. I confronted her about it in the bathroom afterwards. It was dealt with.”

“This happened during my _baby shower_?” she asked, her face utterly disgusted at what had transpired. “What the hell is wrong with her?”

“Listen, I’m going to give her the benefit of the doubt. She was stressed about the wedding and--”

“_Don’t_ give her the benefit of the doubt. God, Bee, _do not_ give her the benefit of the doubt. You’re being too nice. She was my friend in Long Island and I’m absolutely _horrified_ she’d say something like that to you.”

“It’s not…” Bee began, shaking her head. “My mom used to say stuff like that all the time. She used to tell me I’d end up alone because nobody likes smart chubby girls. It’s okay. And it’s not like I haven’t heard it before in DMs. You know what they look like.”

Aryne gave her a look – one mixed with the anger she was feeling but also with sadness at what Bee was revealing. Aryne couldn’t imagine a mother saying something like that to a daughter. “Bee, just because your mom used to say that sort of stuff to you, it _doesn’t_ make it okay,” she stressed, reaching out to hold her hand. “Nobody deserves comments like that being said about them.”

“I know. But when that sort of stuff is said to me, people who mean nothing to me always say it. My mom. Fangirls. Sydney,” Bee said. “I told her that. I told her she meant nothing to me and that even if she didn’t like me she needed to respect me--”

“Good.”

“—and I told her not to take me for a fucking idiot,” Bee couldn’t help but smile. She was still sort of proud of herself for pulling out that line in the washroom. “I think Sydney thinks she needs to put on a mix of this ‘I don’t give a fuck’ and ‘I’m the Queen B cool girl’ persona because that’s the image she’s built for herself and she lets it get to her head. The fact that she grew up with a lot of privilege hasn’t helped that. But I dealt with it. She got married and had a beautiful wedding. I’m still chubby. It’s done.”

“Okay, but wait…” Aryne furrowed her brows. “Morgan only knows about the ghetto comment? Why?”

“That’s all Zach told him.”

“And you didn’t tell Morgan what you just told me?” Aryne asked. Bee shook her head. “Why not?”

It was Bee’s turn to give Aryne a look. “I’m sorry, have you met my boyfriend, Morgan Frederick Rielly?” she asked, causing Aryne to giggle. “God knows what he’d say to Syd – or Matt – if he found out. He’d drop a nuke on Long Island if he could.”

“He _is_ really protective of you out in the public sphere,” Aryne digressed.

“Exactly. He had to make a phone call to Steve Keogh on Canada Day to try and solve my incessant DM issue,” Bee informed Aryne, who already knew all about the DMs sent on Canada Day. “Despite Morgan’s best efforts he couldn’t get Steve to fly back from Europe, where he’s on vacation with his family, to handle the situation immediately.”

Aryne snorted. “What a guy.”

“You’re telling me.”

“So then what’s the next step?” Aryne asked, fixating all the drinks into the Styrofoam holder the barista provided.

“With what?” Bee asked.

“Everything.”

Bee shrugged her shoulders. “Just live my life.”

*

@brionymctavish: my first car!

@morganrielly: lookin cute

@alynntavares: LOVE IT BEE! I know how much this means to you!

@enzosauce: can you drive it out to Edmonton for a visit?

@stephlanchancee: um is that a Honda Civic?

@brionymctavish: Yup! First one ever!

@lucygardiner_: congrats Bee!

@frederikandersen31: I hope I fit in there

@brionymctavish: I’ll stuff you into the trunk if need be


	36. Chapter 35

“First class again?” Bee asked as she looked down at the boarding pass that had just printed out from the kiosk at Toronto’s Pearson International Airport. She readjusted the Louis Vuitton tote bag on her shoulder – the same one that Lucy convinced her to buy all those months ago – and looked up at Morgan quickly.

“Did you expect anything less from me?” Morgan asked, looking down at her. “I mean…_really_.”

Bee snorted as she took a closer look at the boarding pass in her hand, wondering if she got a window seat again or if she was in an aisle cubby. As she looked at her seat number, a peculiar word caught her eye. “Uh oh.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I think it printed out the wrong boarding pass for us. We might have to go back up to that lady who took our luggage.”

“What do you mean?” Morgan said, his tone not phased at all by the apparent error. Morgan flew all the time – this was probably a common error. Did private team jets still print boarding passes?

“It says the destination is Kelowna instead of Vancouver,” Bee said.

“That’s because the destination _is_ Kelowna.”

For a moment, Bee couldn’t understand the words coming out of Morgan’s mouth. She looked at him like he had three heads, trying to decipher the words. “We…we’re going to Kelowna?” she asked. He nodded. “But…I thought we were going to Vancouver?”

“We _are_, silly. I’m surprising you with a trip to the Okanagan Valley _first_, then we’re going to Vancouver,” Morgan was smirking at her.

“The Okanagan Valley? You mean like B.C. wine country?”

“Precisely,” he leaned down to give her a quick kiss. “Who would I be if I didn’t surprise you with something. And don’t _Morgan_ me.”

She sneered at him playfully. “I wasn’t going to.”

“Sure.”

“But you do…I mean…” she began, wondering if she should even say the words. “You _do_ know we could be staying in a Motel 6 and I’d be happy.”

“Briony,” he said her name in a half-amused, half-warning tone. He leaned down to kiss her again before continuing. “What’d I say about this stuff.”

“I _know_, but--”

“We are going to have,” _kiss_, “a very good time,” _kiss_, “going on winery tours,” _kiss_, “and watching the sunset,” _kiss_, “over the Okanagan,” _kiss_, “and then we’re gonna take a roadtrip,” _kiss_, “to Vancouver,” _kiss_, “and watch the sunrise,” _kiss_, “over the Sunshine Coast,” _kiss_, “just like last time,” _kiss_.

Bee couldn’t help but smile at his words. She was also very conscious of the fact that he was kissing her multiple times in the middle of a busy airport. She didn’t used to be that person, but Morgan brought it out of her. She licked her lips and bit her bottom lip before looking up at him. “You’re too good to me,” she mumbled.

“You get what you deserve, Bumblebee,” he winked. “Now let’s go.”

*

When they touched down in Kelowna, they checked in at the Delta Grand Okanagan Resort on the waterfront and changed into workout gear. Morgan wanted to take Bee hiking up the mountain to see the views, and she was more than ready to comply, despite the fact that she knew she was out of shape and would probably have to stop several times along the way up the mountain. She knew the views would be worth it, and if she was a sucker for anything, it was views from mountaintops. Considering she had never been to Kelowna, she thought it the perfect introduction.

They began their hike at the base of Knox Mountain Park, following the trail diligently and making sure to stay on the designated path. There were a lot of hikers out and about due to the beautiful day outside, so there were many quick greetings and many dog pets as they made their way up. About half way up the hike, they happened upon a group of middle-aged people – Bee would say they were probably around Rocco and Clarette’s age – with four golden retrievers between them. Morgan was in absolute heaven. Everybody stopped so the dogs could be pet, and one of the men eventually recognized Morgan, so everyone posed for a group photo. Bee was pulled into it for some reason. The man’s wife was so excited that she pulled Bee in. It was all very nice, but unnecessary for her to be there. She could have at least taken the photo.

When they got to the top of the mountain about twenty minutes later, Bee gasped. There, before her eyes, was Okanagan Lake and the city of Kelowna spread out across the landscape. Though she was out of breath, probably red, and definitely sweating, she couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed at the sight before her. The vast expanse before her was almost too much to handle; too beautiful to forget. She focused hard, and long, creating a mental image in her head of the view so that she’d never forget it. She didn’t want this memory to disappear.

It was only when she felt Morgan’s arm wrap around her waist that her trance sort of ended – even then, she couldn’t look at him, too transfixed on finding every little detail to remember. The colour of the trees. The sparkle of the water. The deep blue of the sky. “It’s beautiful, eh?” he asked softly.

“Like…it’s not fair,” she said, causing Morgan to giggle slightly. “I know I said this on the boat that morning in January but you’re so lucky that you got to grow up here. Like, _incredibly_ lucky.”

“I know, Bumblebee. That’s why I want to bring you here all the time,” he admitted. “I want you to love it as much as I do.”

She couldn’t help but smile as she finally looked up at him. “I already _do_.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Just by virtue of the fact that you grew up here. Never mind the views and the scenery and the people – they’re extra. I love it because _you_ love it. Because it’s your _home_.”

Morgan leaned down to kiss her, not caring about how many people were around possibly watching. Sometimes, Bee had the simplest reasons for things, and for a guy who got stuck in his head too much and came up with overly complicated explanations for things some of the time, it was that simplicity that he needed. _I love it because it’s your home_. It was the simplest sentiment but one that brought out the best in Bee. She didn’t need anything besides the ground beneath her feet and her favourite people by her side. Everything else was extra. “I love you, you know that?” he whispered against her lips.

“You do?”

He pinched her butt playfully. “Smart ass.”

“Yeah, but you love my ass.”

“You’re lucky I do.”

*

_So you’re finally working out. About fucking time, fat ass. _

_Surprised you’re not off fucking Fred or Tyler for your 15 minutes of fame. But then again, who’d want to fuck someone as desperate as you?_

_Making Morgan spend money on you again…typical. Bleeding him dry. If you were smart you’d be with Auston bc he has way more money._

_All the Toronto girls are talking about you behind your back. I hope you know that. You’re still the biggest social climber ever. You think you’re hot shit but you’re not. And just because your new BFF is Aryne, it doesn’t mean a thing. Everybody can see right through you. When Aryne and Morgan dump you, it’s over for you. You’re already so irrelevant._

_Why do u think u can wear tights like that omg u look like a complete whale!_

_Go drown urself in that lake bitch_

“Is everything okay?” Morgan asked as he crawled into bed beside Bee, snuggling up to her automatically as she lay in bed with a lace camisole pyjama set. Bee had sent Angie a quick text to see how Bruce was doing, and Angie was supposed to have sent a video of Bruce back to them. She and Mason were cat and house sitting the apartment while they were away.

“It’s fine,” she sighed. “Just reading the latest messages from my fan club.”

“Fan club?” Morgan asked. When she gave him her phone and he saw the familiar layout of Instagram, he knew immediately what she was talking about and furrowed his brows.

_Ur soooooooo desperate for attention_

_U look like a cheap hooker…like not even an escort. Ur so trash!!!!!_

_You should learn a thing or two from Lucy and her yoga business. AKA stop leeching off your boyfriend!!!!! You think you’re better than everyone else when you’re not. SAD!_

_Morgan is stupid to be with you. I don’t understand what he sees in trash like you._

“Bumblebee…you don’t…I can’t…” he couldn’t find the right words to say as he shook his head. “I’ve gotta talk to Steve again…”

“He’s not coming back from Europe for you, Morgan.”

“Briony, you shouldn’t have to be dealing with this,” he said sternly, unable to joke about this like she was. “I know how much this affects you, baby. And it’s not fair. It’s not fair that they can say whatever they want to you and you have to refrain from saying anything back. That you can’t…that you…” he trailed off.

“That I what?” she asked. She was practically able to see the gears shifting in his head.

“_You_ can’t say anything about it…but what if I did?”

“NO,” she half-screamed, grabbing her phone out of his hand quickly before his thoughts got the best of him. She sat up in the bed and he followed her, sitting up too. “Morgan Frederick Rielly, NO. Don’t you _dare_. Don’t you – that would make it _worse_, Morgan. That’s the _stupidest_ idea you’ve ever come up with. Could you imagine the _media coverage_ on that? Kyle would blow a gasket, let alone Steve. Shanny might have a _stroke_.”

“But I want to keep you safe, Bumblebee. I _need_ to keep you safe,” he tried to reason with her.

“_Not_ at the expense of your good reputation with the team and in Toronto and _definitely_ not at the expense of your career,” she said sternly. “Morgan Frederick Rielly, don’t you even _think_ about it.”

“But Briony--”

“_Don’t_.”

“I don’t understand how you can handle all this. It’s all _my_ fault,” he said.

“It is most definitely _not_ your fault.”

“I feel guilty every day, every fucking time I have to read one of those fucking messages or see you torn up about it. Canada Day _wrecked_ me. To see you like that…Briony, I _can’t_. How can you be so…how can you handle it? How aren’t you scared ab--”

“Shhhhh…” she said quietly, bringing her finger up to his lips to quiet him. “Because my love for you is greater than my fear of that.”

Morgan took a moment to internalize her words. His chest was heaving slightly, he was a bit agitated, and his mind was set on doing something about it himself if he had to, but all he had to hear was her voice, her smooth, calming voice, and all those feelings washed away. “You…”

“My love for you is greater than my fear of that, or them, or anything they say to me,” she repeated, cradling his face in her hands as she kissed him. “You need to start realizing that. They can say whatever they want, and sometimes it might hurt me, and I might cry about it a little bit, but I’m stronger than that and I’ve been through way worse.”

Morgan sighed heavily. “Bumblebee…”

“Shhhhh…” she shushed him again, her finger on his lips being replaced by her own lips. “They’re all jealous. That’s all it is. Jealously. Jealous that you’re mine and jealous that we’re building a life together. Jealous that I get this giant hunk of man all to myself,” she whispered, kissing him again. “Now…if you don’t mind, I’d like to show this giant hunk of man how grateful I am for him and everything he does.”

“B-Bumblebee…” he mumbled out before she kissed him again.

“Quiet, Mr. Rielly.”

Morgan did as he was told. He began kissing her back, softly at first, then with a fervour he reserved only for her, that only she could bring out of him. And when she began kissing along his jawline, climbing on top of his body simultaneously and rubbing her core on his thigh, all his thoughts dissipated completely, replaced with a hunger that he felt only for her. He was insatiable for her. He could never get enough of her. He wanted her always, all the time, constantly, incessantly, persistently. His body ached for hers. It was crazy, he thought, how well they fit together. How their bodies responded to one another instinctually. He wouldn’t be able to find this with anyone else – _couldn’t_ find this with anybody else.

Her took off her lace camisole easily. With her breasts now exposed he took the opportunity to lean forward and take a nipple in her mouth, sucking and teasing and biting down gently. She threw her head back, her long hair cascading down her back, and cradled his head in her hands before tugging on the tufts of his hair gently. She took his shirt off easily. Over it went, across the room, and she moved down his body to slip his boxers off slowly.

“Briony…” he managed to mumble out as she stayed there, grabbing his already hard cock in her hands.

“Shhhh,” she shushed him for the umpteenth time that night. She began stroking it and watched as he gulped. “I got you, baby.”

“I d…I don’t want to cum in your mouth,” he mumbled. “Don’t – when I say--”

“Mmkay,” she said quickly, licking the tip of his cock. “Just say the words,” she said in an almost playful tone before dipping down and taking him in her mouth.

He gathered some of her hair in his hand to get it out of her face; he didn’t want his view to be obstructed as she bobbed up and down, his cock disappearing inside her mouth further and further until he felt the head of his cock touch the back of her throat. He closed his eyes momentarily, relishing in the feeling. “_Fuck_, baby,” he sighed out.

Bee let out a mischievous giggle, her fingernails digging lightly into his thigh. “You like that, don’t you?” she asked as she scratched down slowly. Morgan nodded his head desperately. “You love it when I suck your cock.”

“Y-Yes,” he stuttered out. “_Fuuuck_ Briony, I love it when my cock is down your throat.” He felt her dip down again, her tongue swirling around the tip, licking the pre-cum greedily. “You better start touching yourself,” he told her.

He watched as she slipped a hand down her body and underneath her shorts, wiggling out of them with ease. By now, he was rock hard, and when Bee looked up at him with her big green eyes before she took him in her mouth all the way, hitting the back of her throat again, his hips buckled and he let out a loud groan. She gagged slightly, his movements shoving his cock deeper into her throat, but when he looked at her again, she was already looking at him, a slight smile in her eyes that drove him fucking crazy. “Briony…p-p-please--”

She ignored him, looking away and focusing on her movements instead, and the feeling of his hand tugging at her hair slightly so he could get a better look at her. His grunts and movements gave her the confidence to keep going, to take risks and be as daring as she could. It wasn’t long, though, before Morgan’s breath became heavier, his chest rising and falling with every gasp her took. “B-Briony…”

She moaned on his cock in response, taking him to the back of her throat one more time before her mouth left his cock with a large pop. “I want more of your cock, baby. Just cu--”

“N-No,” he stuttered out.

“Babyyyyy,” she mewled, kissing the tip.

“No. I want…I…get up here,” he huffed out.

“Ba--” she tried again, but Morgan wasn’t having any of it. His hand left her hair as he leaned forward, pulling her up and flipping her onto her back on the bed, his large body immediately over hers as he grabbed at her thighs and wrapped her legs around him. He didn’t wait – there was no time to wait – and entered her quickly, the feeling of her warm walls around his cock causing him to moan out again.

“Holy _fuck_ Mo,” she gasped out, her legs wrapped tightly around his torso so he stayed buried deep inside of her, not allowing him to move just yet. “_Fuck_ baby.”

“Who gets too fill you up, Briony?”

“You, baby.”

“Who?”

“You, Mr. Rielly. Only you get to fill me up,” she pulled his head down to kiss him passionately, lips and tongues everywhere.

Morgan bit down on her bottom lip, dragging it away with him as he straightened out his back and unwrapped her legs from his body. He brought them both together, keeping them over his shoulder as he looked down at her, her body flush with desire. “You okay?” he asked. She nodded her head quickly. “You want my cock buried deep inside of you?”

“Yes Mr. Rielly,” she nodded her head.

He began moving, slowly at first, her breasts bouncing along every time he thrust into her. He would watch her breasts bouncing like that all night if he could. He progressively kept getting rougher and rougher until he was pounding into her, her moans and cries fuel for him to give her more. “You like it when I fuck you like this?”

“Y-_Yes_,” it was her turn to stutter out. “You feel so fucking good, baby.”

He could feel the heat inside of him growing. He grabbed at her legs that were over his shoulder and pushed them forward, into her body, changing the angle so he could go even deeper. She let out a string of expletives at the new feeling, her cries out music to his ears. “S’deep babe,” she could barely get the words out.

“You like that?”

“Yes Mr. Rielly. _Yes_. I love it when you fuck my pussy hard like that.”

“Are you gonna make that pretty pussy cum for me, Briony?”

She could only nod her head as he continued to pound into her, fast and rough and wild, until he felt her walls clench around him and heard her scream out his name over and over again. At the sound of his name escaping her lips so desperately and full of want, he exploded inside of her, leaning further into her so the angle was just right. Bee huffed, trying to catch her breath.

“Stay right there,” Morgan mumbled quickly.

“W…What?” she asked not understanding why he’d say such a thing. Where the fuck was she going to go?

It didn’t take long for her to find out. Two of his fingers slipped into her pussy quickly, causing her to gasp out, and they began moving quickly in and out of her, not allowing her to catch her breath or settle down from her first orgasm. “Mo...” she gasped out, but instead of answering her he licked his way down her body. He was being gentle but rough with his fingers, and she squirmed as she was pinned beneath him. “Mo Mo Mo Mo Mo…” she kept repeating his name as he finally attached his mouth to her clit, lapping and sucking like he was drinking a thick milkshake. “Mo, fuck, _please_.”

“All mine,” he mumbled against her pussy. “All fucking _mine_.”

“All yours Mr. Rielly. All yours,” she breathed out, grabbing hold of his hair. Her body gyrated at the sensation and it was too much; in no time, she was cumming again, the sound of her wetness and Morgan’s fingers still moving in and out of her just amplifying it all. He lapped up every last bit before moving back up, squishing her beneath his body as he kissed her.

“I love you Briony,” he mumbled against her lips.

She could taste her juices on his lips as she continued to kiss him. “I love you too baby. So much.”

*

“Wow, Ms. McTavish, you’re a natural!” Chef Michael smiled as Bee began basting the chicken breast cooking in the pan. The chef looked over to Morgan, who had given up a long time ago and chose instead to just watch – Bee had no problem cooking his chicken breast too. “You’re a lucky guy, eh?”

“The luckiest,” Morgan smiled as he watched Bee concentrating on the basting.

“Does she cook a lot at home?”

Morgan nodded his head. “My specialty is grilled cheese and breakfast for dinner. She does everything else.”

Chef Michael focused his attention back to Bee. “Alright Ms. McTavish, we need to let it simmer now. Let’s focus on those broccolini sautéing with the garlic. Think we should add more?”

“You can never have too much garlic.”

Chef Michael looked over at Morgan again. “My kinda girl!”

“I learned some of my cooking skills from an Italian,” Bee continued, stirring up the broccolini. “If a recipe called for two garlic cloves he’d put five.”

“Who are your friends? Your family? I need to meet these people!” Chef Michael exclaimed, so enthusiastic about everything. “Let’s mince some more garlic in there.”

When all was said and done, Bee had perfectly prepared two plates of creamy chicken in a white wine sauce, roasted Japanese sweet potatoes, and sautéed garlic broccolini. It smelled heavenly, and Morgan could tell she was so proud of herself as she fixed her plate with the last of the brocollini, Chef Michael instructing her on how to present everything beautifully. When she finished, he presented them with a bottle of white wine from the winery to have with their meal, uncorking it and pouring it for them.

“You two can bring your dinners out onto the patio with you. Ray will come to clean up the pans and dishes while you eat,” he said.

Morgan nodded but Bee furrowed her brows. “Oh, there’s no need for someone to clean up. We can just do that after.”

Chef Michael paused his movements momentarily. “No no Ms. McTavish, it’s fine. Ray will be in any second with the busser to take everything away.”

“I insist--”

“No ma’am, it’s _fine_,” Chef Michael stressed. “It’s part of the service. You can just enjoy your meal on the patio. You worked hard on it.”

“Bumblebee,” Morgan said gently. “It’s alright. We can go.”

She looked between Morgan and Chef Michael hesitantly before giving in. “Okay. Um, thank you,” she said, more awkwardly than she would have liked. “Are you _positive_? Because I can just wash everything after dinner. It’s no big deal.”

Chef Michael let out a laugh. “Go enjoy your meal Ms. McTavish. And have a good night.”

Bee followed Morgan out onto the patio with her plate and wine glass, his own already on the table. She looked back into the room as Morgan closed the sliding door, watching as Chef Michael gathered all the dirty cutlery and utensils and put them all in the sink. She looked to Morgan, who had pulled out her chair for her. “Does that usually happen?” she asked.

“Does what usually happen?”

“People cleaning up after you in these fancy shmancy places,” she clarified, setting her plate and wine down on the table.

“If you request for butler service, yes. But we didn’t get that,” Morgan said, knowing that would be her next question; that she would give him one of her looks if he did. “I think it’s just a part of the service they offer with the chef. I think they figure you’d want to eat right after instead of clean up.”

“It’s a bit…I mean, I can clean up after myself.”

“Not everybody is responsible and sensible like you,” he leaned his head down to kiss her quickly. “Now, let’s eat, shall we? I want to have a romantic dinner with my girlfriend.”

Romantic it was. Morgan couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. The scenery spread out before them was beautiful – just like everything else was in British Columbia – but he could only transfix his eyes on her, watching her as she ate and listening to anything she began talking about – how it was supposed to get cool that night, how Angie had sent her a new video of Bruce with the zoomies, how Mark had texted her that they had made record profits the past month for a particular client of theirs. If her voice were the only thing he heard for the rest of his life, he’d still die a happy man.

When they finished their meal, Bee stacked their plates on top of one another. She brought them into the villa, setting them in the sink before popping her head out the sliding door. “Is there a way you can call so they can come get these plates and not bother us for the rest of the night?” she asked. “I don’t want anyone coming back in. I just want to watch the sunset with you.”

“Yeah, of course,” Morgan nodded his head, getting up from his seat. “I’ll call.”

“Good. I’m going to the washroom,” she said, disappearing into the bedroom.

After some time, Ray was back to collect their plates and ask if they wanted anything else taken care of the night. Morgan declined, thanking him, and let him go for the night, making sure to lock the door behind him as Ray left. He found it a bit peculiar that Bee was still in the washroom. He hoped the food didn’t get to her; there’d be some strongly worded complaints if it did.

“Bumblebee? You alright in there?” he called out. He glanced at the screen door quickly to see the sunset in full bloom.

“I’m okay,” she said. “Is Ray gone?”

“Ray’s gone,” Morgan confirmed. “You feeling okay, Bumblebee?”

“I’m feeling fine,” she responded, but he could tell her voice was a little off. “Can you…um…can you make sure the door is locked?”

“Already is.”

“Okay. Can you come into the bedroom?”

Morgan furrowed his brows. “Of course,” he said. “Are you sure you’re okay, Bumblebee?”

“I’m fine,” she confirmed, still calling out from the closed washroom. “Just…you know…get comfy. Change into your pyjamas. I’ll be out soon and we’ll go out and watch the sunset.”

Morgan did as she said, stripping himself down and changing into his pyjama bottoms. He sat in the chair, folding the jeans he had been wearing, before the light in the bedroom mysteriously turned off. He looked up, only the light from the sunset peeking through the window. “Bumblebee?” he saw her stand outside the doorway to the washroom.

“Hey.”

“What’re you doing?”

“Good thing you’re already sitting in the chair. Topless, even,” there was a slight laugh in her voice, not answering his question. She turned on the lamp, illuminating the room romantically. He noticed she was wearing a robe. She never wore a robe at home.

“What’s this?” he asked, his eyes wide as he noticed it was a silk robe, lace trim dangling from the ends of sleeves.

Bee smiled shyly. “Just a little something.”

“Just a little something, huh?” Morgan gave her an up-down, throwing his jeans onto the floor beside him.

“Mhm,” she nodded her head, playing with the tassels that tied the robe together. “You know…I bet all that cooking must have taken a lot out of you,” she winked.

Morgan couldn’t help but giggle slightly. “Oh, it did. I am _spent_.”

“Well then. Just sit back and let me give you a show,” she smiled devilishly.

“A show?” Morgan asked. Bee nodded her head slightly. “You…you planned something?”

“Is that okay?”

Morgan couldn’t help but let out a light laugh. His body already felt on fire. She had planned something – with _that_ robe on, and whatever else was underneath it – and was asking if it was okay? “Of course baby,” he said softly. “Let me see. Let me see what you’ve planned.”

Standing far away from him, she bent over and leaned forward, placing a quick kiss on his lips. “I trust you.”

“And I trust you. And I love you.”

“Good to know. Because by the end of this I have every intention of you fucking me like you don’t.”

Morgan’s pupils dilated. He gulped nervously. He watched as Bee straightened herself out and took a few steps back, playing again with the tassels on the robe before she started to sway her hips slowly back and forth. She worked on untying the tassels slowly, achingly so, and Morgan could feel himself getting hard with each passing hip sway. Eventually, she pulled, untying the bow and letting it fall, the robe becoming looser. A hint of pink lace peeked its way out of the robe.

“Briony…” Morgan barely made out her name.

“Yeah baby?” she asked in an innocent voice, her fingertips gliding along the edge of the fabric near her chest.

“What…what did you--”

“Shhhh baby,” she cooed, approaching him slowly, seductively. “What did I tell you?”

“But baby--” he tried reaching out to grab the fabric of the robe.

She smacked his hand away quickly. He looked at her in the eye, shocked. “Don’t touch me,” she ordered. “Don’t touch me unless I tell you. Just watch.”

She saw his chest rise and fall dramatically. “Briony--” he tried to grab at her again.

“_Don’t. Touch. Me_,” she stressed, smacking his hand away once more. “Unless you want me to stop. Then you’ll have to take care of _that_,” she eyed down to the growing bulge in his pants, “all _alone_.”

There was a fire in her eyes and Morgan knew she meant it. This was completely new – he was completely blind-sided – but he wasn’t exactly complaining. He loved seeing this sort of confidence from Bee. He thought it partly cute, partly evil that she had planned this – masterminded it from the beginning. He nodded his head, agreeing with her. He couldn’t formulate a word. There was no point.

She took a couple of small steps back – far enough so Morgan couldn’t reach out, and far enough so he could get a full body view – and started to pull the robe down her shoulders slowly, letting it fall to the floor dramatically revealing, inch by inch, the blush pink floral lace bralette and garter set, complete with a matching pair of pantyhose.

“Oh my _fucking_ God,” Morgan mumbled in disbelief.

A smile adorned Bee’s face. “Do you like, Mr. Rielly?”

Morgan nodded, beginning to feel an uncomfortable strain in his pants. “_Yes_,” he nodded his head almost desperately. “Yes. Yes. I love it,” he was a gibbering mess.

“D’you like the colour?”

“Yes.”

“And the lace?”

“_Yes.”_

“What about the garter? And the pantyhose?”

“I love it all,” the desperation was evident in his voice. “I love it all. Every fucking piece of it.”

“Good,” she bit her bottom lip, running her fingers along the lace of the thong that hung on her hips. She took a step towards him. “So if I came closer…” another step, “and closer,” another step, “and closer,” one final step, “you’d be able to keep your hands to yourself?”

Morgan huffed out a breath. “I don’t…”

“If I put my hand on your chest…” she moved to do exactly that, walking to his side. His head followed her as far as it could until she was behind him. “If my breath grazed the back of your neck…” she moved, again, to do exactly that as she stood behind him, her hand still on his chest as she gave the skin on his neck a quick kiss. She took a few steps so she was standing in front of him again, turning away so her back was towards him, her ass in full view. “If I sat in your lap, would you be able to keep your hands to yourself?”

She didn’t give him the chance to answer. She lowered herself onto his lap, swaying her hips back and forth for good measure. She heard Morgan grunt as she did so, absolutely fucking _loving_ that she was getting such a reaction out of him. She felt powerful. Sexy. Sensual. She could feel the erection already in his pants and it made her the most confident she’d ever been.

“Fucking hell, Briony,” Morgan whispered. Like clockwork, it didn’t take long for her to feel his hand on her ass, even if it was just a quick caress.

She rose up quickly and slapped his hand away for a third time. He whined out in protest as she walked away from him, flipping her hair over her shoulder to look at him. “No. Touching.”

“But _Briony_\--”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“NO! No no no,” he shook his head. “Please God no.”

“No more touching. Do you understand me?” she said, her voice seductive but stern. “No. More. Touching.”

“I won’t. I won’t.”

“Promise me,” she demanded.

“I promise. I promise you,” he was desperate, so desperate. “I swear to you, I won’t touch you. _Fuck_ Briony, _fuuuuck_, I w…I won’t touch you. Not unless you tell me. Just get back here.”

“Not until you beg.”

Morgan whined out again. “Briony. Briony _please_.”

“_Beg_.”

Morgan could swear there were tears forming in his eyes. “_Please_ Briony, I promise. _I’m begging you_. Come back here so I can look at you. Please. _Please_.”

Briony smiled, biting down on her bottom lip again. “If you touch me without my permission again it’s over. Keep your hands to yourself.”

Morgan nodded his head. “I will. I’ll keep my hands to myself, I promise. Now please_. Please_ come back here.”

Bee sauntered over to him, bending over so her breasts, covered by the delicate lace, were right in his face. She leaned forward so the material gently grazed against his nose and lips. “Lace is your favourite, isn’t it?” she asked, already knowing the answer. Morgan nodded his head. “You always go crazy for me in lace.”

“You look perfect in it,” his voice was low. “You make it look perfect. Every time.”

She straightened out briefly so she could turn around again, her ass facing him as she sat down on his lap. “You love spanking me too, don’t you.”

She heard his sharp intake of breath. “Y-Yes,” he stuttered out.

She looked over to see his hands gripping the armrests of the chair, his knuckles almost completely white. _Excellent_. “Especially when I’ve been a good girl?”

“I…y…yes,” he huffed out, stuttering again. She watched as his hands shook through the grip he had on the armrests.

“Am I being a good girl right now?” she asked, grinding down against him gently.

“I’d reckon you’re being a bad girl right now.”

Bee let out a giggle, looking at him over her shoulder. “Is that so?”

“You’re being a very bad girl teasing me like this,” he reasoned.

“Whoops,” she rolled her eyes playfully at his answer. “Sorry not sorry.”

“Briony, _please_.”

“Please what?”

“I need to touch you,” he begged.

“I don’t think you’ve earned that yet.”

“Wh – I – _please_,” he continued to beg. “You don’t understand, Briony.”

“Not yet,” she shook her head. She stood up again to face him, placing her hands on his chest. His eyes were pleading with her, but she didn’t budge. “What do you think of the garter and pantyhose?” she asked again, just to torture him.

“I love it. I love it _all_,” he said. “It looks so, so sexy. It’s driving me fucking crazy.”

Her hands made their way down his chest and over his bulge, settling on his knees as she shifted her weight from one leg to another again and again before flipping her hair in front of him dramatically. She promised him she’d give him a show, so she was going to give him a _show_. She incorporated her movements into pulling his pants off of him, revealing how rock hard he was. After scratching her nails up and down his thighs, she settled them on his knees once more before spreading his legs open dramatically. Morgan looked at her wide-eyed before she squatted down between his legs, her hips swaying from side to side.

“Jesus fucking _Christ_ Briony,” his voice was frantic as she spun around on her tiptoes, still squatted, before swaying her hips back up into his face. “_Briony_.”

“You like that?” she ignored his pleading tone, knowing all he wanted was to touch her.

“_Yes_. Please Briony, can I t--”

“What about when I do this,” she said, spinning around to face him before climbing on to his lap. She flipped her hair in his face again, and began to grind down. His hands left the armrest dramatically, ready to grab her, but with every ounce of will he had left in – which wasn’t much – he balled his hands into fists and kept them away from her. She shoved her chest into his face, her hands on his shoulders and nails digging into his skin.

“Briony – you fucking – you don’t – you can’t--” he muttered out.

“You want to fuck me with this on, don’t you?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“You don’t want me to take it off?”

“No. Keep it on. Keep it all on. I’m gonna fuck you so hard you won’t be able to fucking walk tomorrow,” he told her as she grinded down on him again, his cock rubbing up against the fabric of her thong.

She smiled. “That’s what I like to hear, Mr. Rielly.”

“Can I touch you? _Please_?”

“No.”

“Briiiiiiony.”

“Not. Yet,” she said, arching her back. “Tell me something Morgan,” she began. He gave her cut eye. Her right hand slipped down between their bodies to her hot core. “Do you like it when I touch myself?”

Morgan huffed. “I like it when I touch you better.”

“Why?”

“Because I know how to make you feel good,” he said. “Because I _like_ making you feel good.”

“And when you get to touch me, what are you going to do to me?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

She smiled. She grabbed his cock without warning and began to stroke it teasingly. She felt his hips buckle at her touch and knew she had teased and agonized him long enough. She grinded down on his lap one last time, for good measure, feeling just how hard his cock was. “Morgan?” she whispered in his ear.

“Yes Briony?”

“Make me be your good girl. Fuck me so hard I won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

Morgan was like a man possessed. In what felt like less than a second he grabbed her, picked her up, and threw her on the bed. He climbed onto the bed after her and flipped her over so she was flat onto her stomach, her legs spread apart for him but her ass slightly raised. She arched her neck to look behind her and saw him hovering over her. “You think you can play games like that with me and get away with it?” he asked her, his voice low and coarse and his hands went to the small of her back, pressing down so she stayed laying flat on the bed.

“You liked it, didn’t you Mr. Rielly?” she asked, her voice playfully innocent in tone. “You kept telling me how much you liked it. You _begged_ to keep me close.”

He leaned forward so he could whisper in her ear. “Now I’m gonna make you beg,” he said, watching as her lips curved into a smile.

“Like your good girl?”

“Like _my_ good girl,” he nodded his head. “I want to hear you scream my name.”

“Yes Mr. Rielly.”

“You can’t cum until I say so. Understood?”

“Yes Mr. Rielly,” she nodded her head, feeling his body loom over hers. He was still holding her down so she could barely move. “Mr. Rielly, if I be a good girl will you spank me?”

Morgan laughed mischievously. “We’ll see about that. Maybe if you ask nicely,” he said.

Without warning, he entered her hard and quick, unable to wait any longer. Bee cried out automatically at the feeling – everything from the speed, to the size of his cock, to his holding her down, to the angle that he entered her, made him go so deep that she swore she could already see stars. He didn’t start slow either; he was desperate and needy and didn’t have time for any of that, so he rocked into her hard and fast. She screamed out in pleasure over and over again, savouring the feeling. He was being a bit rougher with her than normal, but she loved every second of it. She wanted it. She had asked for it, and he had complied. He was doing exactly what she wanted him to do, and they had the trust in each other to do this.

The way he was holding her lower back down, keeping her in place, meant the angle was deep – and with the force he kept pounding into her with, she knew she wouldn’t be able to last long. But just as he complied – as best he could, he did slip up twice – to her rule of ‘no touching’, she knew she would have to comply to his rules now too. “Mr. Rielly,” she said between her screams and moans, “Mr. Rielly it’s so deep.”

“You like it when it’s deep like that, huh?” he asked.

“Your cock is so big and it always goes so deep,” she said, knowing it would stroke his ego. “Can you spank me, please?”

She heard Morgan huff out a laugh, barely missing a beat as he continued to fuck her. “No.”

“But Mr. Rielly--”

“_No_.”

“_Please_ Mr. Rielly, I want to be spanked so bad.”

“I don’t think you’ve earned that yet,” he threw her own words back at her. She almost regretted the decision to use that language when she was teasing him – _almost_. But there was no way she could ever regret anything that brought her so much pleasure. “You have to beg, remember?”

Morgan could hear her whimper. “_Pleeeease_ Mr. Rielly. _Please_ spank me.”

She felt one of his hands leave the grip he had on her lower back and she prepared herself. Instead, she felt him grab her hair and tug her towards him, so her back was flush against his chest momentarily. His hand snaked around and went to her clit, and he bit down on the skin of her neck before moving up to her ear. “_Beg_.”

“_Please Mr. Rielly_,” she was practically on the verge of tears. “_Please please please_, I’m begging you to spank me.”

“If I spank you are you gonna cum?”

“No,” she answered automatically, shaking her head slightly. “Not until you tell me to.”

He smiled, a throaty laugh escaping him. “That’s right. That’s my good girl,” he cooed, pushing her back down so she was flush against the bed again. With one hand on her lower back holding her down, the other hand spanked her ass. She let out a cry of pleasure, and with another spank, another cry.

“Harder,” she mewled out

“Harder?”

“Fuck me harder, Mr. Rielly. _Spank_ me harder.”

Her spanked her again, red marks already appearing on her ass from before. He rubbed the area gently before spanking it one more time. “You want to cum, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she said quickly, not bothering to hide how close she was. “I want to cum so bad.”

“If I spank you again will you cum?” he asked. Bee nodded her head. “Then no.”

“No, _please_,” Bee cried out. “I can’t – I won’t--”

“Are you going to take more like a good girl?” he practically growled out, holding her down again with both hands now.

Bee didn’t answer automatically this time. She was trying to regain composure, trying to regain whatever semblance of sanity she had left in her body. “Y-Yes…” she whispered, barely audible.

“Are you going to take _more_ like a good girl?” Morgan asked, louder to insinuate how loud he wanted her to be.

“Yes,” she said aloud.

“Like _my_ good girl?”

“Yes!” she screamed out. “Like your good girl. _Always_ your good girl, Mr. Rielly.”

Morgan continued pounding into her for a while, even harder than before. Bee’s cries became louder, as did the sound of cock throbbing in and out of her hot core. With the prelude leading up to this, the dirty talk, the sound of Bee’s moans and cries, and the fact that he probably could have cum while sitting in that God forsaken chair if Bee had grinded down on him just one more time, he was surprised to have lasted this long anyway. He could feel his body getting flushed and hot and knew he was close.

“Are you ready for my cum, Briony?” he asked.

“Yes, Mr. Rielly,” her voice was coarse from all the noise she was making. “I’m always ready for your cum. _Always_.”

He spanked her again a few more times for good measure, getting some more desperate cries out of her, before tugging her hair one last time to bring her back against his chest. “You’ve been such a good girl,” he cooed as he gave her a sloppy kiss.

“I love it when it’s like this,” she managed to get out through hooded eyes and desperate whispers. “I love it when I’m your good girl. When you take me from behind. When you fuck me like I’ve never been fucked before.”

“You like me fucking you hard and fast?”

She nodded her head. “I love it so much Mr. Rielly.”

He snaked a hand around her body and began rubbing circles on her clit. “You ready to cum, Briony?”

“Yes. Fuck, _yes_. _Please_.”

“When I spank you I want you to cum,” he instructed her. “And I don’t want you to stop. Understood?”

“Yes. Yes yes yes yes,” she said in hushed whispers.

Bee waited a few moments, and when she didn’t feel the hard smack on her ass she whined. She waited for _another_ few moments – and still nothing. She was desperate. She was going to kill him. She was going to cum any second. “Mr. Ri--”

_Smack!_

She cried out, _loud_, her orgasm pulsating through her like a tidal wave, her entire body shaking and her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Morgan continued to pound in and out of her with his throbbing cock, while his hand continued to rub at her clit, giving her orgasm after orgasm, over stimulating her just how she liked it. After what felt like a million of them – a million different orgasms, a million different cries, a million different moans and desperate shouts of his name – she finally, _finally_, felt his hot cum pour into her, filling her up as his cock twitched and throbbed inside of her. She felt his body shake against hers, his own moans and desperate calls out of her name filling the air as they rode out their orgasms together, clinging on to one another.

Bee swore she could still feel an orgasm ride through her entire body as he pulled out, the both of them collapsing on the bed trying to catch their breath. Her core was still so hot and sensitive as she curled up in Morgan’s arms, both their bodies hot and glistening with sweat. She was surprised the lingerie made it through – that Morgan didn’t rip it off half way through or take it off with his teeth or something. She was glad it got _this_ reaction out of him.

“Bumblebee…” she heard Morgan’s voice, barely above a whisper. “I wouldn’t have done that with anybody else but you.”

She smiled, curling further into his body. “I wouldn’t have done that with anybody else either,” she responded, reaching down below their bodies to grab hold of his cock. “Thank you for indulging me. For giving me exactly what I wanted.”

“I love you so much,” he mumbled, feeling her put his softening cock at her core again, the heat still so comforting. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

*

Bee was a bit sad to leave Kelowna and the Okanagan area, after having experienced its beauty, great weather, and lovely people, but she had to remember she had Connor, Andy, and Shirley Rielly waiting for her on the other side, eagerly anticipating her presence in Vancouver for the second time that year. Earlier that morning, she and Morgan had checked out of Hester Creek Winery, where they had been staying for the past three nights, and loaded everything into their rental car for their five hour road trip to Vancouver. After a last minute stock up of the wine from the winery, and a _very_ last minute stop at Tim Horton’s for some coffee and snacks to sustain themselves (like good Canadians) they were on their way, the GPS system directing them where to go.

“You tell me anytime you want to stop to take pictures,” Morgan said as they took the on-ramp onto the highway. “It’s going to be a pretty scenic route. Especially when we drive through the provincial park.”

“I will,” Bee smiled, stuffing a Timbit into her mouth before feeing Morgan one. “I’ll try not to stop too much. I don’t want this trip to take eight hours.”

“Nuh uh,” Morgan shook his head. “You just tell me whenever you want to stop. We can take ten hours. It doesn’t matter.”

“Your parents are expecting us for dinner.”

“We’ll call them and tell them there’s traffic,” he said, his mouth still full with the Timbit. He winked at Bee as she gave him one of her looks.

Morgan reached over the console and grabbed her thigh, exposed thanks to the pretty sundress she was wearing, squeezing it gently as the road opened before them. It was there for a while, as they continued to drive on the open road, occasionally squeezing and massaging her skin before it crept higher and higher, getting dangerously close to her core.

“Keep your eyes on the road, you perv,” Bee placed her hand above Morgan’s to stop it from going any higher. If it did, she knew he’d probably swerve off the road.

“I _am_ keeping my eyes on the road,” he reasoned. “My mind, on the other hand, isn’t on the road.”

Bee snorted, shaking her head playfully. “You want to fuck me in this rental car, don’t you?”

“Maybe.”

She couldn’t help but snort. At least he was being honest. “Why’re you so horny all the time?” she giggled.

“You make me.”

“If you keep it up we’re gonna end up having ten kids.”

There was a silence between the two. It wasn’t awkward, or charged, or because either was tongue-tied and didn’t know what to say. It was just…a silence. A comfortable silence, the road of the car on the road filling the void, until Morgan spoke first. “We’re _not_ having ten kids.”

Bee couldn’t help but smile. “No. Definitely not. I’m not doing that to my vagina. We’re not the Duggars.”

“Two or three is good,” he said.

Bee nodded her head in agreement. “Two or three. One of each. Whatever happens first.”

Morgan took his eyes off the road to look at her. She noticed his smile. How he was looking at her; like he’d just laid eyes on the image of perfection. “Yeah. You…you’ve thought about it, then?”

Bee nodded her head. If she thought about the wedding, and establishing a life together, there was no way she didn’t think about kids either. “Of course. You know I want kids.”

“I know. But like…”

“I want kids with _you_, if that was going to be your next question,” she said. “I mean, there’s _no_ question. It’s _you_. I’m not having anybody else’s kids. I’m having _your_ kids,” she stressed.

“Okay,” he said, unable to contain the smile on his face. “I uh…yeah. Okay.”

“Tongue tied, are we?”

“No,” he kept trying to contain his smile. “Not at all. Just glad you’ve thought about it too. That’s all.”

“I know…I know you’ve always initiated these conversations in the past,” she said, thinking out loud at this point. “Whether drunk or tipsy or not. But I think about this stuff do. I _do_ love you more than I can describe with words. I just…I think because of my background, because what I’ve been through, I’m a bit less open about it. Because my mom never wanted to hear it when I was a young kid, and because I never really loved her later on growing up. But I do love you. And like…I want everything with you. A life. A house. Children. I may not vocalize it, but I do. And I don’t picture myself having all those things with anybody else. I only want it with _you_.”

Morgan flipped his hand so he could hold hers and bring it across to his lips so he could kiss it and hold it across his chest. “I only want it with you too,” he said, his lips rubbing against her hand. “I’ve only ever wanted it with you. And I want to give you all that.”

“I want to give it to you too. This is a relationship. A partnership. We can give _each other_ these things,” Bee clarified.

“Yeah. You’re right. That’s what I meant,” he nodded his head again, correcting himself. “We can give each other these things. A life. A house. Children. But not for a while – children, anyway. We…we’re already building a life _together_.”

“We are.”

“Everything else will come in time,” Morgan said confidently. “I’m just…I know I’ve told you this before, but I thank my lucky stars every single day that it’s _you_ in this life with me.”

Bee smiled again, unable to keep her eyes off of him. “And I thank my lucky stars you sent a mojito to my table.”


	37. Chapter 36

“How _beautiful_ is this?!” Bee exclaimed to nobody in particular as she stood atop the first step that descended down on the Capilano Suspension Bridge. She knew what it looked like because she had Googled it before, so she knew exactly what to expect. But researching something online and seeing what it looked like was completely different than seeing it in person, and Bee was…flabbergasted. Overwhelmed. The beauty that surrounded her on this gorgeous sunny day was unparalleled. Everything she experienced on the West Coast just kept getting better and better. The roar of the river flowing beneath the bridge, and the trees – there were so many beautiful trees surrounding the canyon – she just couldn’t get enough. It was like something out of a fairytale or book; an unpublished Tolkien novel about paradise.

“Isn’t it, though?” Shirley smiled from ear to ear, seeing Bee’s enthusiasm and excitement about the bridge and the scenery. “Wait till we actually get on the bridge. You feel like you’re a bird walking up here!”

“I feel like in a past life I must have been a woodland creature,” Bee said. “Everything about this is so beautiful. And I feel so…I don’t know, _calm_. Excited, but _calm_.”

“That’s what a temperate west coast rainforest will do to you,” Andy piped up from behind them, causing them to laugh. “Ready?”

Bee took one last look upwards, taking in all the trees and foliage, before setting her sights on the bridge in front of her. She wasn’t _too_ scared of heights, per se, but the logistics of the suspension bridge freaked her out a little bit, and, well, it _was_ a long drop down, regardless of how beautiful everything else was around her. She hesitated for a moment, mentally preparing herself to take the first steps down, when she felt Morgan’s hands grab at her waist quickly before sliding them over to grab her hand. He squeezed it gently and appeared at her side.

“You can do this,” he said gently, nodding his head. “You want me to go first?”

Bee shook her head. “Just…let’s go together.”

“Okay. Let’s go together.”

They both took another step down. And another. And another. Then, slowly, _slowly_, walking along the bridge. Bee kept her eyes on her feet the entire time. She could see the black of her shoes and the brown of the bridge. She didn’t know how far she’d gone – if she’s gone far _at all_ – and assumed Andy and Shirley had probably already made their way to the other side by now.

“Look up, Bumblebee,” she heard Morgan’s soft voice.

When she did, she was greeted with the vast openness of the bridge, the crisp air, the lush greens of the trees, and the rushing blue water of the river beneath them. A smile crept its way onto her face, slowly, as she took in the sights before her. “_Wow_…” she whispered to herself in amazement, trying to internalize the moment. She looked beside her, to Morgan, already smiling at her. “Wow.”

“Wow indeed. You ready to keep going?”

Bee nodded her head. In the distance, she saw Andy flailing his arms about, trying to get their attention. Shirley, in front of him, was holding her phone up to take a picture. “I think your parents might have other plans,” she nodded her head towards them.

Morgan didn’t hesitate. He wrapped his arms around her body, turning their bodies towards his parents, and rested his chin on the top of her head. Shirley gave big thumbs up. Bee was smiling from ear to ear.

*

Bee had never been on such a long bike ride in her life. She’d taken her fair share of bike rides around Toronto – usually up in the suburbs, in the neighbourhood where Rocco and Clarette lived, since biking on major streets downtown scared the living shit out of her – but this was different. When she had agreed to go on a bike ride with Morgan in Stanley Park, the famous expansive park in downtown Vancouver, she thought it would be a short ride. Morgan clearly had other things in mind. They started their journey at the Stanley Park Lawn Bowling Club, riding along the perimeter of the park before stopping halfway to take pictures near the Lions Gate Bridge. They then mounted their bikes again, following the paths that went directly through the middle of the park, amongst the hundred year old trees, until they finally reached the Vancouver Seawall, yet another scenic destination, overlooking the Vancouver Harbour and all the tall, glass condo buildings in the West End and Gastown.

It was only then that they truly descended off their bikes – taking photos together, getting strangers to take pictures of them – before they brought their bikes underneath a tree, leaned them against the wide trunk, and laid down on the grass. “My thighs feel like they’re on fire,” Bee mumbled as she plopped down onto the grass, spreading out her limbs for dramatic effect.

She heard Morgan chuckle slightly. “Maybe I can help with that,” he hummed, his hand immediately going to her thigh.

She slapped it away instantly. “We are in a public God damn park, Morgan Frederick Rielly. Put your hand away.”

He snorted. “I was just gonna massage.”

“_Sure_.”

“Stop making fun of my primal urges.”

“It’s called public indecency and they will arrest us in this park.”

“They might arrest you for being so hot you’d start a forest fire.”

Bee did the most dramatic eye roll in the history of eye rolls before scoffing at the comment. Morgan could only laugh at the disgusted face she was making. “Oh my _fucking God_, Morgan. You are literally the _absolute worst_, you know that? Like, I’m not even joking. _The worst_.”

“You love me.”

“You’re lucky I do or else a comment like that would warrant a 72 hour sex ban for being literally the corniest thing to come out of anyone’s mouth in the history of humanity.”

Morgan pretended to scoff back at her. “You’re _mean_ when you’re tired!”

“_You’re so hot you’d start a forest fire_,” she mimicked his deep voice. “The literal _worst_,” she laid back down flat on the grass.

“Get over here,” he grumbled playfully, rolling over so he was on his side, propping himself on his elbow as he draped his arm over her. He leaned his head down slightly to kiss her, and for all her teasing, her dramatic eyerolls and her scoffing at his corny comments, she kissed him back readily. “I love you,” he mumbled into her lips.

“I love you too.”

He kissed her again. “Did you enjoy the bike ride?”

She nodded her head. “This place is beautiful. You always take me to the coolest and most beautiful places and it makes me never want to leave. I’m tired and I’m red as a tomato but I could have stayed biking on that path forever.”

“I just want you to see how beautiful it is out here,” he said.

“Can we build a house along the path we just went on? Right in the middle of the trees?”

Morgan chuckled slightly as he dipped down, resting his head on her chest. “You just tell me where, baby, and I’ll build it.”

*

“Morgan.”

“Hm?”

“What are you doing?”

“What do you think?”

They were on a boat in the middle of the Georgia Strait, watching the sunset again before making their way over to Gibsons to spend the day there. Both were both already fully clothed, at Morgan’s insistence so they could start the day early – Bee in a sundress and him in his usual slacks and t-shirt – and he had taken it upon himself to cuddle with her again under a blanket as they watched the sunrise from the boat. Just like last time, except Maggie had to stay home since she probably couldn’t handle an entire day out and about in Gibsons. The boat ride was going to be tranquil, too. Just like last time.

Morgan, apparently, had ulterior motives.

Bee’s breath had hitched in her throat when she first felt Morgan’s hand slip and wiggle its way between her thighs. His hand stayed dormant for a while, almost as if he had just put it in between her thighs to warm it (the crisp morning air _was_ a bit nippy), but slowly, _slowly_, his hand kept sliding up, and when he was finally close enough, he began moving her panties out of the way. _That’s_ when she spoke up. “Really? Now?”

“Always.”

“But what if we get caught?”

“By who? The people in the other boats?” he asked sarcastically. It was 5:30am and they were the only boat out for miles.

Bee’s breath hitched in her throat again as she felt one of his fingers gliding along her lips lightly. Just as she had planned that little surprise when they were in Kelowna, he had been planning this, apparently. He knew exactly what he was doing when he told her to get dressed that morning and had made the comment about the sundress being cute and ‘very appropriate’ for the coastal town of Gibsons. “I seriously don’t know where you get all this energy from. Not that I’m complaining, cause I’d ride your dick across the Pacific Ocean if I could.”

Morgan smirked. “I told you that my New Year’s Resolution was to have more sex with you. I’m not one to break a resolution.”

“You’ve broken your clean eating during the season resolution like, every week since you’ve made it.”

“That’s different. This is sex with _you_,” he stressed, causing her to laugh lightly.

The only problem with Morgan’s _surprise_ was that he wanted to take it slow. Like, painstakingly slow. Glacial pace slow. _Geologic time_ slow. He teased the lips of her pussy _much_ longer than Bee would have liked, and inserted only one finger after what felt like half an hour. To make matters worse, he was talking to her and holding a conversation as if he _wasn’t_ fingering her on the Goddamn boat, forcing her to participate instead of relishing in the feeling. Her mind kept going back and forth – from talking about what book he should read next to the tingle making its way up her spine as he curled his finger in her slowly. He was teasing her, putting her through psychological warfare, and he knew it, and it was all part of his plan.

She hated him. But _fuck_, she loved it.

Another finger slipped in after a while. As was standard, she found it harder and harder to concentrate on whatever words were coming out of Morgan’s mouth as his fingers moved lazily inside of her – she tried to keep the conversation, she really did, but with each movement and each further tease of his thumb near her clit, she was getting more and more sensitive. Her body was already flush with heat. “_Morgan_.”

“Yeah baby?”

“You’re gonna kill me, you know that?”

“Why?” he asked with fake innocence, at the same time curling his fingers in her, causing her to squeeze her thighs together.

“_Really_?” she demanded.

“You want me to stop?”

She glared at him. “If you stop I’m throwing you overboard.”

“That’s what I thought,” he said, a third finger now slipping in so painstakingly slow she gave throwing him overboard a serious thought. She squirmed slightly, trying to maintain her position but knowing it could change at any moment. He began placing butterfly kisses on her shoulder, moving up to her neck. She closed her eyes. “Feels good?” he asked.

She could only nod her head as she let out a sigh, finally concentrating on the feeling of his three fingers inside of her. If he was done playing his games, she was done playing them too. “Your fingers always feel good inside me,” she whispered.

“You remember when we were doing this before Auston’s New Year’s Eve party?” he asked. She nodded her head again, a smile creeping its way onto her face. “I could have stayed home that entire night and fucked you senseless if you had let me.”

“I was a bit more naïve back then,” she joked. “I wanted to make a good impression on your friends. I thought if we didn’t show up Auston would hate me.”

“Auston could never hate you.”

“At least we got to see him make out with a cupcake.”

Morgan snorted, his nose and lips grazing the skin of her neck as he chuckled. “Does he know you have that video?”

“No.”

“Keep it that way,” he giggled, biting down on her skin gently. “And you remember Valentine’s Day?”

Did she remember Valentine’s Day? What kind of question was that? The question should have been ‘_Do you remember the time I fucked you senseless with my hand four fingers deep in your pussy?_’ She found herself nodding her head again as he curled his fingers, causing her to squirm. “How could I forget?” she asked, an obvious strain in her voice.

“If I remember correctly, I’m one finger short of how I was fucking you that night,” Morgan said, his voice low. His thumb finally, _finally_ attached itself to her clit, lazily rubbing circles. Bee bit down on her lip. She couldn’t help but try to move her hips so he could go deeper. “_Fuck_ Bee, you’re desperate aren’t you?”

“You fucking _know_ I’m desperate,” she whispered harshly. “I’m so fucking hot and so fucking wet and I’m ready to fucking _explode_, Morgan.”

“Guess I better go slower, then. Tease you a little more,” he whispered in her ear, removing his thumb from her clit.

“_Morgan Frederick Rielly_, your fingers have been in my pussy for more than a fucking _hour_. If you take _any_ longer I will not be held legally responsible for what I will do to you.”

Morgan chuckled. A low, hearty chuckle as he bit down on the skin of her neck again. She wondered if he was leaving marks. “All you have to do is say the magic words, baby,” his voice was so achingly sweet.

“I want to cum, Morgan.”

“Those aren’t the magic words,” his thumb grazed her clit teasingly.

She took a deep breath. He was really going to make her do this on a fucking boat in the middle of the Strait of Georgia at 6:45 in the morning. “I want to cum, Mr. Rielly.”

“That’s a good girl,” he said, his thumb finally beginning to rub circles again, all three of his fingers curling inside of her, causing her to squirm. He continued his movements at a steady pace – nothing too fast or slow – and could feel her wetness building and her body getting more and more heated.

Morgan saw the moment she closed her eyes, unable to take it anymore. They were both silent as her orgasm tore through her, powerful and _long_, leaving her body shaking and squirming for a while. Morgan didn’t stop – really, did he _ever_? – until her hand reached in between her thighs to grab his. His fingers left her pussy, and she watched through hooded eyes as he brought them to his mouth and sucked on them, tasting her juices.

“Are you hard?” she asked quickly.

“Yeah.”

“Let me sit on your cock, Morgan.”

He unbuttoned and unzipped his pants quickly, shoving them half way down his legs as he saw Bee stand and bunch up the skirt of her dress around her hips. She moved to stand in between his knees, facing away from him as she lowered herself onto his lap. He moved her panties with one hand and grabbed his cock with the other, guiding it into her, and she began bouncing up and down in no time, her hands leaving her dress and squeezing onto his thighs, her nails digging into his skin.

For all his teasing of her, he knew he wouldn’t last long like this. Bee bouncing on his cock was probably his favourite view – never mind that beyond her was one of the most beautiful sunrises, with some of the most beautiful scenery in the world. He could watch his cock disappear into her pussy all day.

“You’re lucky I’m not as big a tease as you are,” she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder to look back at him.

“I don’t know about that,” he grunted, his hands going underneath the fabric of her dress to grab her ass. “You _existing_ is a tease to me.”

“Cheeky.”

“I see something else that’s cheeky.”

She smacked his thigh playfully. “I love you, Morgan.”

“I love you too, baby.”

“Are you close?”

He nodded his head. “I want you to cum again too, baby. With me.”

She nodded her head, turning back around. After a few more minutes, he felt her walls clench around his cock again, and she cried out his name. He steadied her bouncing as he came inside of her, never _ever_ getting tired of the feeling of filling her up. She leaned back into his chest, his cock slipping out of her as he wrapped his arm around her. They were both breathing heavily as they came down from their highs, Morgan peppering Bee’s shoulder and neck with light kisses.

“I love you,” Bee repeated her earlier sentiments. “So damn much. You have no idea.”

“I love you too, Bumblebee. More than anything.”

*

“Out of all the amazing restaurants downtown…I have to say, the backyard of the Rielly house is my favourite place to eat,” Bee said, leaning back in her chair as she swallowed the last bit of perfectly grilled filet mignon. She turned her head to look at Morgan sitting beside her, smiling. “That filet was great.”

“I thought it was a bit salty,” Connor joked, garnering a sneer from Morgan and a laugh from Bee. “Whoever seasoned the vegetables did a _much_ better job.”

“You’re just saying that so mom will slice you a bigger piece of cheesecake,” Morgan snarled. “Don’t fall for it, mum. That steak was grilled _perfectly_ medium rare.”

“Oh alright you two,” Shirley waved off her quarrelling boys. “You’re both getting a big fat slice of cheesecake. No need to butter me up about it.”

“Reminds me of the time you boys were fighting over who was giving the homeless people at the shelter bigger portions of turkey for Thanksgiving,” Andy quipped. “Everything was always a competition with you two when you were younger. How old were you boys?”

“I was twelve,” Morgan remembered. “It was two years before I left for Notre Dame.”

“Yeah, I was in my first year of high school,” Connor nodded his head before focusing his attention back on his brother. “Have the Leafs kept doing that Covenant House volunteering for the holidays?”

“Every year,” Morgan nodded his head.

“Have you joined in?” Andy asked.

“Of course.”

“I’d like to get in on that next time…if I can,” Bee piped up. “I used to be on the receiving end of that sort of stuff. It’d be nice to give back.”

Morgan gave her a look. He wasn’t exactly shocked that she’d want to do volunteer work – this was _Bee_, after all – but to him, her tone sounded like she had been waiting to say this for a very long time. “Really?”

Bee looked at Morgan as if it was the most obvious choice in the world. “It’s been almost a year now. I think it’s about time.”

“You must have discussed it with some of the other girls, then,” Shirley offered.

“I’ve actually discussed this with Aryne Tavares,” Bee said. “We’ve talked about it a lot, actually. She did a lot of charity work down in Long Island and she’s been continuing it in Toronto, and I think it’s time for me to start too. I’m actually going with her to Sick Kids when we get back to Toronto, but I’m thinking there’s other stuff I can do, too.”

Morgan should have known she had already started this discussion with Aryne. “That’s great news, Bee,” Shirley smiled. “What were you thinking?”

“Well the Leafs have always had a relationship with Sick Kids Hospital – I know Morgan goes there a lot too, has been there a lot, so that’s one,” she began. “Since we got Brucey from the Humane Society I thought of maybe doing something with them…like, promoting adoption drives and stuff like that. Literacy programs too – going into elementary schools and promoting reading to kids,” she continued. Morgan could tell her tone was getting more nervous the more she spoke. “And…um, Aryne and I have been talking, and I think, uh, it’s really good, cause, well, it’s really important to me that, uh…I get involved in something like Alateen.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, everybody around the table digesting what Bee just revealed to them. Morgan barely blinked. Connor was nodding his head slowly. Andy and Shirley looked like they were still listening intently – like they _hadn’t_ processed the information yet. It was only until Andy spoke up that Bee felt the weight lift off her shoulders. “That’s very honourable of you, Briony.”

“I haven’t um, looked into it yet or anything. It’s just a very basic idea,” Bee felt the need to explain herself. “It’s just that, you know, I could have used a mentor growing up in that situation. Somebody to sort of guide me through. Not somebody to tell me that everything was going to be okay, because I knew things weren’t going to be okay, but at least somebody to speak to. And I think of all the kids – all the teens – who are going through what I went through, and it just feels right to try to help them. Nobody really…I didn’t know these resources existed growing up – mostly because I lied to my teachers, because I’m sure they would have told me – but I just think that I could…you know…provide some insight. Some help. However I can.”

She felt Morgan grab her hand underneath the table and squeeze it tightly. Connor was nodding his head approvingly now, as were Andy and Shirley. “That’s fantastic Bee. You’d be great at that,” Shirley said. “You have built such a successful life for yourself, and you can be a real role model for those kids. They’ll be able to see someone who powered through, who survived, who got an education and is working and is making a success out of herself.”

“Yeah,” Bee nodded her head. “Um, I know I’m gonna need to clear it. I know it’s a very touchy subject for a lot of people and I don’t know if it’ll get approved or whatever, but it’s something I’d like to do. If not now, in the future. And if I can’t do it with the Lady Leafs, then maybe through Scotiabank. Or on my own. I don’t know.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Andy affirmed, swirling the remainder of his wine around in his glass. “I think you were _meant_ for something like that.”

*

Andy and Shirley didn’t have rules this time – however imposed or unimposed they were the first time around in January – so Bee and Morgan slept in the same bed, _his_ bed, that night after dinner. They were spooning – on their sides cradled into one another, Morgan’s arm draped over Bee and Bee’s legs curled into his – just enjoying each other’s warmth. The sun had set long ago but the light from the moon illuminated the room slightly.

They were staring into each other’s eyes. They had been since they lay down together. Morgan initiated it and had barely stopped. Bee could only indulge him.

“You’re the strongest girl in the world, you know that?” he whispered, his voice low and soft. “After all you’ve been through, after all you’ve had to overcome, you’re still willing to talk about your experience. I don’t know if I’d be able to do something like that.”

“It’s never something I’ve backed away from. You know that,” she said in an equally soft voice. “I told you from the get go. I’m not ashamed.”

“I’m just scared,” he admitted.

“About what?”

“Any scrutiny you’ll get for talking about your past and what you’ve been able to overcome. I’ve told you how harsh the media can be. You’ve _seen_ how harsh the media can be. But it’s not even…it’s the DMs. You know how nasty they can be and those girls can be fucking crazy. We still haven’t solved the DM issue enough for me to be confident that you’re…you know, _safe_.”

Bee brought her hand up, cupping his face. “Whatever scrutiny I’ll get will be from low-lives,” she began. “Who would go after a girl for trying to help children with alcoholic parents or relatives? You’d have to be a special kind of dumbass, to be quite honest.”

“I know, but--”

“Besides,” she interrupted him. “I’m a big girl. I can handle it. This is going to do way more good than harm _because_ I’m not ashamed of where I came from. Even if I just help _one_ person, Morgan, it’s worth it. It’s worth it to _me_.”


	38. Chapter 37

“Aren’t you so _excited_?” Aryne asked Bee as they stepped out of Sick Kids Hospital and got into her car, giant giddy smiles on their faces at the day they just had. They had arrived at Sick Kids that morning, greeting a woman named Beth, and ended spending most of the day there, speaking to her about upcoming volunteer initiatives before spending hours visiting the kids. Some of the kids remembered Aryne, thanks to prompting from their parents, and they got excited whenever she mentioned John coming back. Some of the parents even remembered Zach Hyman’s visits, and spoke about him bringing copies of his books and handing them out to the kids.

“I’m soooo excited,” Bee clapped. “I can’t wait. Those kids are adorable…so sweet. God, I just want to come back tomorrow!”

“Where are we picking up Angie?” Aryne asked quickly as she backed out of her parking spot.

“At the corner of University and College,” Bee said absentmindedly. “I’m serious, Aryne. Can we go back tomorrow?”

“I’m sure they’d love to have us, but you have _work_,” Aryne giggled. “You know, at Scotiabank.”

“I can call in sick,” Bee grumbled.

“Then by all means, Bee,” Aryne shook her head playfully, smiling.

After a quick pick up of Angie, the three women decided to grab dinner at dbar at the Four Seasons in Yorkville. They were seated immediately thanks to Aryne and started to tell Angie all about their day and the kids they met. Angie was all ears while they spoke, even offering to see if Indigo could make book donations after she heard of Zach Hyman bringing his books to the kids.

As they continued to talk, dbar became busier. The restaurant filled up quickly, and the bar area became pretty packed with patrons. As their waitress left after serving them their drinks, a big group of girls walked past their table, talking and giggling loudly with each other. The girl at the front, leading them, looked at Bee and Aryne sitting in their booth before she stopped in her tracks and turned around dramatically. “_Ohmigod_, Aryne, _hiiiii!_” the girl squealed, making her way back to their table, her heels clapping on the floor. From behind her, her posse followed, their own heels loud on the hardwood.

Aryne look confused as the girls approached the table, stopping so they were right in front. Every one of the girls – about five of them – had drinks in their hands. Their makeup was flawless, as was their hair. “Hi?”

“Do you remember me?”

Aryne smiled awkwardly, trying to be as gracious as possible. “Um…did I meet you at a game?”

“Yes!” the girl said excitedly. “The Leafs game against New Jersey. I came with Cassie and we sat the row below you. I’m Danielle!”

“Oh, right. How are you?”

“Good! You know, just having a few drinks with the girls,” she nodded to her posse of girls behind her, each with a drink in their hand and wearing a slightly different variation of the same outfit. They were all staring at Bee, which unnerved her. “It’s so nice to see you again. I feel like we didn’t get that much of an opportunity to talk at the game.”

Aryne laughed awkwardly. Was this girl serious? They barely talked at the game…if this was the same one Aryne remembered. Cassie brought so many friends so often that she wondered if Cassie was _actually_ friends with all of them. Aryne wasn’t friends with that many people. “Yeah…I guess I was busy watching. Plus I know Cassie likes to have a fun time at games. I’m sure she kept you entertained. But I think we’re about to get our food and --”

“You’re Bee, right? Morgan’s girlfriend?” Danielle focused her attention on Bee, completely ignoring Aryne and her polite plea.

“Bee McTavish, yes,” she nodded, saying her full name instead of the addition these girls would always follow her name with – _Morgan’s girlfriend_. “I don’t believe we’ve met. You said your name is Danielle?”

“Cassie’s told me so much about you,” Danielle nodded her head. “I saw you guys volunteering today. Cassie showed me. Was it at the food bank or something?”

“Sick Kids, actually,” Bee clarified, furrowing her brows. The fact that this girl knew about their volunteering efforts, thanks to Cassie, made her a bit weary. “Food bank will be closer to Thanksgiving.”

“I guess it would be really important to you to volunteer for that kind of stuff considering your background.”

Bee hesitated, her breath hitching in her throat as she saw the little devilish smirk appear on Danielle’s face. “M…My background?”

“Your mother being an alcoholic,” she clarified, taking a cheeky sip of her drink. The other girls around her tried to hide their smiles too, looking at each other. “I bet you used those food banks because of that.”

“Who told you that?”

“It’s the talk of the town,” Danielle shrugged her shoulders playfully. “_Everybody_ knows, Bee. She died in January, didn’t she?”

Bee knew what this was. She knew _exactly_ what this was. She narrowed her eyes at Danielle. “Oh I see,” Bee said, remaining unnervingly calm as Angie went beet red. Aryne, for her part, was ready to go full Mamma Bear mode, but Bee held up her hand to shush her. “So Cassie told you some personal information about me, that I grew up with an alcoholic mother, and now you think you’re better than me because you’re some pretty King Street party girl loafing around on your trust fund, parading through every club in the city trying to worm your way into the same room as the bottom six Leafs.”

Danielle rolled her eyes. “I’m just sure that like, you weren’t able to do a lot of stuff. Or _get_ a lot of stuff. Which is nice because now, who you’re dating lets you give back, right? Not to mention _get_.”

“_Ooooooh_!” Bee exclaimed, way too chipper. “So you’re jealous that Morgan is with me and not you?” she asked. “You’re desperate for his attention? Let me guess. You tried to hook up with him before. Maybe even sent him a sexy DM even though you know we’re together,” the more Bee spoke, the more Danielle’s face went from smug to fearful. “Come to think of it…_you_ must be one of the girls _also_ DMing _me_, telling me how fat and desperate I am.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Judging by your face I don’t think I am,” Bee deadpanned. It straightened Danielle up quickly. “You’re really dedicated to your goal. I mean, befriending Cassie just to try to land a Leaf? Gossiping on bunny blogs so people take you seriously? Who is the _real_ desperate one here?”

The more Bee spoke, the more she could feel her cheeks flush red. She wasn’t sure if it was with anger or with sadness – maybe a mix of both – but she couldn’t believe what this girl was trying to do…in the middle of a damn _bar_. And the fact that she had her little minions tag along with her made it worse. But it was Cassie’s loose lips that were the cause of all this: the gossip, the information being spread, Danielle approaching her while eating dinner with her best friends to try and make her feel bad about something she never had any responsibility for or control over. She wasn’t exactly close with Cassie, but they were friendly – at least, Bee _thought_ they were. And truth be told, Bee didn’t think she knew another person whose morals were so low that they’d use this type of information as _gossip_. Shared over drinks at a bar similar to those one. Whispered over the vanities in the bathrooms of clubs after getting drinks bought for you all night.

“Cassie is the one who told me,” Danielle said, immediately throwing Cassie under the bus. These girls had no loyalty. None whatsoever. It was almost comical to Bee, who loved so fiercely she couldn’t imagine doing such a thing. “If you’re going to be mad at anyone, it should be her.”

“Oh I am. Don’t get me wrong. But what I’m failing to understand is why you’re bringing up my past in the middle of a bar as a way to blackmail me--”

“I’m not blackmailing _anyone_\--”

“—as an attempt to _scare_ me away from something,” Bee finished her thought. “Like, I don’t get your motive. What did you think would happen when you approached me like this? You DM me calling me desperate and fat and a slut, and then bring up my mother like I should wear it with a badge of shame when it’s really the opposite. I am where I am now _because_ of my past, and if you’re too stupid to realize that, that’s not my problem.”

Danielle was angry now. Clearly her plan had not gone the way she wanted it to. Clearly she wanted to leave Bee a sobbing, blubbering mess in the middle of one of the most popular bars in the city. Bee hadn’t called Morgan on the spot to break up with him and tell him _‘There’s a much prettier girl here and her name is Danielle and you should be with HER instead of ME!!!!!’_ “Whatever. You’ll just always have to live with the fact that you’re the child of an alcoholic mom.”

Angie and Aryne were ready to burst. There was practically steam coming out of their ears. “That may be,” Bee nodded her head, her voice unreasonably calm. “And you’ll always have to live with the fact that you’re a person trying to make someone feel horrible about having an alcoholic parent. I’ve seen a lot of wrong in my world…but you? You’re _really_ the _lowest_ of the _low_.”

Danielle sent one last glare to Bee before she and her posse left the table, marching angrily as they passed other patrons who eyed them from their seats. Bee let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding in. She didn’t know if her face was red or what she looked like, but when she looked at Aryne and Angie on the opposite side of the table. They were staring her down like a hawk and its prey.

“Bee…” Aryne began.

“Who the fuck was that girl? And who the fuck is Cassie? Give me her number right now, cause she’s going to hear it from me,” Angie demanded from the two women.

“Angie--” Bee shook her head.

“_No_,” Angie’s tone was harsh. “Nobody is getting away with this. Not that girl and definitely not the bitch that told her. You handled yourself like a fucking angel because if that were me I’d be in handcuffs. These people have bullied you for _months_ and you’ve never spoken up but now they come up to you and say that? I’m ready to take out a fucking guillotine, Bee.”

“I just don’t get why they’re so obsessed with me,” Bee started, shaking her head. “Why would they…why would they try to leverage that against me? Do they think Morgan doesn’t know or something?”

“You can’t let them get to you, Bee,” Aryne said, her tone much more calm than Angie’s. They were a good balance, she thought – Angie wanting to guillotine this girl and Aryne wanting to rationally talk about it. “It’s like the Sydney thing. They’re going to say things to get a rise out of you. They actively want to see you hurt. But you can’t let them win. You _can’t_ let them win.”

“I’m never going to let them win. I already _won_,” she said, thinking about Morgan – blonde haired, blue eyed, built like a fridge, missing a tooth, scars on his forehead and chin, maker of grilled cheese, breakfast-for-dinner connoisseur, introspective, dessert-loving, Sweet Chili Heat obsessed, cuddler, A+ kisser, hand wanderer, cat and dog dad, West Coast dream boy Morgan. “I’m in a loving relationship with the greatest guy and they…I don’t know. They’re jealous of that, I guess. They say I’m only using him for clout but _they’re_ the ones who’d use him for clout.”

“You need to be in control of your narrative, Bee,” Angie advised. “You need to tell Morgan and the Leafs organization this happened.”

“Angie, no--”

“She’s right,” Aryne piped up, interrupting Bee’s shaking of her head. “She’s absolutely right, Bee. You need to tell someone. If it’s not resolved it’s only going to get worse. When the crazy fangirls start coming after family it’s a whole different ballgame. And _you_ need to be in control of your story, because they don’t know you, or your story.”

*

Angie knew her best friend. She knew when Bee was ruminating over something in her mind, and she knew when something was bothering her, and she knew when she was debating over whether to act, fighting with herself internally over something.

It had been that way since Bee quietly started scrolling through her phone in Aryne’s car, since Aryne brought them back to Angie’s apartment, since Bee took off her shoes and asked to take a shower, since they both put on their pyjamas and got into Angie’s bed together. Bee plugged her phone into its charger and left it on the nightstand. Angie watched as she curled up in the fetal position, facing her. Bee looked so vulnerable, so weak, and Angie knew she felt so exposed by the events of the day. To think that Bee’s life story was being spread over drinks, over dinners, talked about by people who didn’t even know who she was – it made Angie sick.

“Talk to me, Bee,” Angie said softly, lying in the same position as Bee, face to face. Angie could only see anxiety and unease in Bee’s eyes as they stared at each other. She would do anything; say anything to not have it be that way.

“I won’t end up like her, will I?”

Angie’s heart stopped beating momentarily. Her chest tightened, and it felt like she was going to go through full-body convulsions and start throwing up. It took every ounce of fortitude in her to not cry at the question. It took every ounce of willpower in her not to grab Bee’s phone off the nightstand, find Cassie’s number, and call her to cuss her out. “No,” she said definitively, absolutely, unquestionably. “Never. You will _never_ end up like her.”

“How do you know?” Bee asked again, a single tear rolling out of the corner of her eye.

Angie’s chest tightened even more. “Because you’re nothing like her. You never were,” she said softly. “I’ve always told you that you were born for better circumstances than what you were born into and that you meant for something bigger and better than what your life gave you. You will never, _never_, end up like Sharon. _Ever_.”

“Sometimes I get scared that’s it’s inevitable,” Bee admitted, her voice so fragile and full of hurt. “Sometimes I think about how this is all a dream and how it will end and how I’ll find myself with a vodka bottle between my lips in a rooming house in Moss Park.”

“It’s not going to end. It’s not a dream, Bee.”

“She told me that, you know. She told me _‘What I am is what you will be’_.”

“I know. And I’m here to tell you she was dead wrong,” Angie said, using her thumb to wipe away Bee’s tear. “You have one thing in your life that Sharon never had that changes everything. That will guarantee you will never end up like her.”

Bee sniffled. “What’s that?”

“Love.”

Bee’s face scrunched up, trying to hold her tears back, but the attempt was futile. More tears began streaming down and she tried to wipe them away quickly. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” she managed to get out in between sniffles and trying to control herself. “That’s all…that’s all I’ve ever wanted _ever_.”

“And that’s what you’re getting now. With me, and Morgan, and Mason, and Aryne and John, and Tyler, and the Gardiners, and the Kadris,” Angie began to list.

“I just don’t…I just don’t want to end up like her,” Bee shook her head. “I want to be so much better. I want to be so much more loving, and giving, and--”

“You already _are_ those things, _in spite_ of her,” Angie interrupted. “You already _are_ all those things Bee. And no DM, no stupid girl, _nobody_ can _ever_ take that away from you.”

Bee snuggled into Angie – the only thing she could think of doing. There were tears still staining her face, but as they lay together in the bed, Angie could feel Bee’s breaths steady, her sniffles become less frequent, and her body less tense. “I love you, Angie.”

“I love you too, Bee.”

“I never want to end up like her.”

“You never will.”

“Or those girls. I never want to end up like those girls.”

“You won’t. You’ve built your life on a foundation of truth, humility, and love rather than money, self-obsession, and entitlement. You’re the furthest thing away from those girls and it’s not even close.”

Angie felt Bee fall asleep in her arms. But the more Bee fell into her deep sleep, the more Angie couldn’t. She couldn’t close her eyes and she couldn’t feel tired after knowing what was going through Bee’s mind. So slowly, and carefully, she made her way out of the bed and over to the other side, where Bee’s phone was charging, and opened it via her passcode. She came face to face with a bunny blog – one that Bee had now obviously been scrolling through in Aryne’s car.

_I don’t get u guys. U all want these wags to have their own lives and careers but the second they do u guys accuse them of not supporting their man. They can never win. Ur all hypocrites. If Bee works at Scotiabank then let it go. If she graduated with an MFA she’s way more educated than all of you, so fuck off._

**Nobody is saying that anon. Stop freaking out at me for something I never said!**

_Okay, so I know somebody who is in with the Leafs WAGs. Cannot confirm, but the rumour is that Bee McTavish (Morgan Rielly) grew up with a mom who was a serious alcoholic. _

**That’s a pretty serious accusation anon. If u can’t confirm it I don’t know why ur spreading it around on every bunny blog.**

_To that other anon: yes, Bee McTavish grew up with an alcoholic mom. Her mom actually died in like February or something. They didn’t keep in touch. Bee went through a lot and you guys should lay off._

**So is this a confirmation? How do u know?**

_If Bee’s mom was an alcoholic that’s unfortunate but it doesn’t change the fact that Bee leeched onto Mo the second they got together. She’s trapped him now and it’s so obvious. We were calling her a social climber months ago and now this basically confirms it._

**She def latched on to Mo but I’m still unsure about ‘social climber’. The fact she hasn’t let him out of her sight since they began dating is very telling tho.**

_All u guys revealing that super personal stuff about Bee better watch out. The Leafs management and social media managers don’t fuck around with this shit anymore. Plus Bee is BFFs with Aryne Tavares now. Aryne’s a huge bitch and will legit ruin ANYONE who says shit about Bee._

**This made me LOL. Come @ me then!!!!! I’m not the one spreading the rumours, I’m just publishing them. And if they’re true, what’s the use of going after anyone? Y’all are fucking stupid. They don’t care about shit. And if Aryne wants to ruin me go right ahead **

_ Bee McTavish would look like a model with a different nose and some lip fillers_

**LOLLLLL omg I know right? Her features all together are just so wrong**

_If bee mctavish grew up with an alcoholic mom no wonder she latched onto mo so quickly and leeches off of him. Wonder if she’s one too now? Instead of spending all Mo’s money on clothes she’s probably drinking it all away._

**LOL I hope it’s at least good alcohol and not the cheap shit u know what I mean. High-class alcoholic!!!!!**

Angie’s stomach was in knots. That people were saying such awful things about her best friend, someone she considered her sister, her _family_, made her blood boil. She gently placed the phone back down on the nightstand before walking back around to grab her own phone, leaving the bedroom quietly and going into her bathroom. There was only one number she needed to dial.

“Hello?” Morgan answered on about the sixth ring. He was in Montreal for something, and his voice was groggy and tired. He had obviously been sleeping. Angie would have felt bad if it was any other night, but right now she didn’t care.

“Hey Mo. Uh, sorry for calling so late.”

“S’alright Ang. What’s up?”

“Um…listen,” she began hesitantly. “Something happened today.”

She could hear Morgan flick on a lamp. “Something happened today?”

“With Bee.”

She could practically feel his worry over the phone. “What happened?” he asked sombrely. His voice was no longer crackly, no longer filled with sleep or fatigue.

“Um, so after Bee and Aryne went to Sick Kids, they called me to meet them at dbar for dinner, so I went. And while we were there, this girl approached our table. Her name was Danielle.”

“Who is this Danielle girl?”

“I have no clue. She’s apparently friends with Cassie? Who I’m piecing together is Kasperi’s girlfriend.”

“Okay…”

“Anyway, um, so this girl. She made a comment…she…” Angie couldn’t piece the words together. She was too emotional. “Morgan, she knew about Bee’s mom. She knew she was an alcoholic. She knew she died in January. Cassie told her, and now it’s being spread by these girls and all over those blogs. I _saw_ it. I _saw_ it with my own two eyes.”

Morgan was silent on the other end. Angie was waiting for him to say something, and in the silence, she could practically feel his anger rising. “Are you serious?”

“_Yes_,” Angie stressed, audibly worried. “Listen, Bee handled it right then and there. She tore this Danielle girl a new asshole. It was all alright, but then when we got back to my place and we started talking in bed…you know how we talk…and she looked at me dead in the eye and she asked, ‘_I won’t end up like her, will I?_’ And Morgan, my heart--”

“--okay, I’m coming home. I’m getting on the first flight back--”

“—no no Morgan, no--”

“Who was it? Danielle what? Cassie’s friend? Cassie knows her?”

“Morgan, calm down.”

“_No_, alright?! NO!” he exclaimed. “I’m fucking sick and tired of people telling me to calm down when this shit happens. I am _not_ calm about this and _nobody_ should be. Shit like this shouldn’t be spread around like gossip. These are people’s _lives_ we are dealing with here. _My girlfriend’s_ life.”

“But I don’t think--”

“No, Angie. I’m calling Brendan Shanahan and Kyle Dubas and Steve Keogh and we are getting to the bottom of this. I’ll call the fucking police if I have to. I’ll lawyer up. I don’t give a fuck. Nobody is hurting her. Do you understand me? _Nobody is hurting her_.”

Angie knew she wasn’t going to get through to him. He was a man possessed with anger now – a man hell-bent on making others pay for their gossip and maliciousness and there was nothing she could say to him that would make him change his mind. He was packing up, he was getting on that flight, and he was calling his bosses to help him make others pay. “Okay, well…we’re at my place. When you get to Toronto,” she said meekly, hearing him unzip his suitcase on the other end.

“I’ll ring you when I’m downstairs,” he said absent-mindedly.

“Morgan, you need to compose yourself before you get here,” Angie said as sternly as she could, as sternly as a man possessed would listen to her. “I mean it. She doesn’t need anger surrounding this. She’s already going through the motions mentally and she doesn’t need anger right now. She just needs solutions.”

“I know, I know,” he said, his voice slightly calmer than it was moments ago. “I just need to protect her Ang. _I need to protect her_. Fuck, this is all because of me. This is all because of me.”

“It is most definitely _not_ because of you,” Angie said. “This happened because this Cassie girl has no morals and thinks people’s personal lives are fodder for gossip. This happened because her fellow friends don’t have morals either.”

“But it’s still – if she – if she hadn’t met _me_\--”

“Morgan, _enough_,” Angie stressed. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to her, okay? You cannot be taking responsibility for other’s people’s actions. That’s not how the world works. Those girls will pay – I’m sure they will – but right now, you can’t blame yourself.”

Angie wasn’t sure if Morgan was listening to what she was saying. All she could hear was shuffling on the other end before Morgan’s meek voice said into the phone, “Tell Briony I love her,” before he hung up.

*

“Hello Ms. McTavish,” Kyle Dubas smiled politely as he opened his office door. He was dressed casually, in a polo shirt and fitted jeans. From the entryway, Bee could see Brendan Shanahan and Steve Keogh by the window, looking at something on Brendan’s phone. The office was just as she remembered it when she was here in March. She noticed a new picture of Leo Dubas within the bookshelves.

“There’s no need for formalities Mr. Dubas. Just call me Bee,” she said as she shook his hand.

“If there’s no need for formalities, then just call me Kyle,” he quipped, moving so she and Morgan could walk into his office. “Let’s take a seat, shall we? We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

As Bee and Morgan walked in the room, they got Steve and Brendan’s attention. Brendan and Steve gave Bee a quick hug and handshake respectively before everyone settled into their seats around Kyle’s grand desk. After tucking in their chairs Morgan’s hand slipped into Bee’s lap to hold hers gently, caressing the back with his thumb.

“Okay, first thing’s first,” Kyle said, taking out a pad of paper. His iPad was already set up with a keyboard in front of him. “Morgan has apparently encouraged you to take screenshots of the messages you’re being sent. You’ve done so and he’s forwarded those images to Steve, who has then forwarded them to us,” Kyle explained very formally. “I’m sure that we all agree, the ones…the _mean_ ones, with the name-calling and the judgement and everything else, the ones that we read during Morgan’s incident in March – as horrible as they are, nothing, unfortunately, can be done about those.”

“I understand completely,” Bee nodded her head.

“It’s the new round of messages that’s gotten more…sickening. And more aggressive and abusive. Before we even go into solutions, we need to have an open dialogue and open discussion about this. Nothing can be left off the table,” Kyle said. “Bee, I need to know if we need to get lawyers involved. What I mean by that is is there any _slander_ or _defamation_ happening?”

“No,” Bee said definitively, shaking her head slightly. “I wouldn’t want to get lawyers involved in anything. It’s unnecessary. And it’s not defamation because it’s true. I did grow up with an alcoholic mother. A raging alcoholic of a mother.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Brendan shake his head slightly. “I don’t mean to pry, Bee, but we need the whole story.”

“There’s not a lot to know. It’s not a complicated story,” she shrugged her shoulders. “She gave birth to me in 1995. She was an alcoholic my whole life. We lived in public housing, rooming houses, and moved in and out of homeless shelters. There was never any, like, love or anything. And then when I was sixteen I fought to be legally emancipated from her, and I won. I haven’t been in contact with her since then. I haven’t seen her or spoken to her at all. And as you guys now, this past January, during the All-Star Weekend, she died. She was found dead in a homeless shelter due to cirrhosis of the liver.”

There was a silence between the men in the room as they took in all the information. Brendan looked upset. Steve couldn’t even look at her. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Brendan said solemnly.

“There’s no reason for any of you to apologize to me about it,” Bee said. “I’m not…it’s not…_listen_,” she stressed, moving around uncomfortably in her seat, trying to find the right words to say to the highest executives of one of the most storied franchises in sports. “I’m not _ashamed_ about it. I never, like, went into hiding about it and I’ve never avoided it being brought up. My friends know. Morgan knows. John and Aryne, the Kadris, the Gardiners – everyone _knows_. It was bound to be brought up in the public sphere eventually…I just _hate_ that it was brought up through gossip and not from me. On my terms. With my consent.”

“I understand, Bee,” Kyle said. “This should never have happened. I don’t know how--”

“I already know who spread the information. That’s…not the issue here. I don’t care about that. What I care about is that I’m in control of my own narrative about it. With the organization’s consent I’d like to be open about it because I want to be able to help other young people who are in similar situations,” Bee said confidently. She saw a streak of shock quickly flash across Brendan’s face. “What the bigger issue is here is that I don’t feel safe that this information – which is now being turned into misinformation – is being spread and then being used against me in the public sphere. The lowest of the low use it against me, but it’s happening nonetheless. Morgan, in particular, is scared that with the wrong information being spread, the uh…_comments_ will get much worse, and that my mental health will suffer more than it already has.”

“So the DMs are still an issue,” Steve spoke up.

“Absolutely,” Morgan interjected. “And they’re getting worse. You’ve seen them. They’ve moved on from looks to calling her the team cum bucket. The latest round accuses her of being an alcoholic.”

“And you’ve put your profile on private?” Steve asked. Bee nodded her head. “How long have you had this account for?”

Bee shrugged her shoulders. “Since I got my phone, I guess. I got in at 18 years old. So it’s been five years.”

“And you have family members on there? Friends? University classmates?” Kyle inquired further.

“I don’t have family because I have no family,” Bee deadpanned. “The closest thing I have to family is my best friend Angela Favaro and her family. They’re all on there.”

“Have they ever been contacted? Sent messages?” Kyle asked again.

“Angie was asked back in January, but she told everybody to fuck off. I don’t think anyone bothered after that.”

That was news to Morgan. He didn’t know that these delusional people trying to get dirt on Bee had contacted Angie. As if her best friend would actually tell them anything. He looked to Steve for answers. “Something needs to be done,” Morgan said. “She can’t live her life like this. The truth needs to be put out there before rumours run wild and it damages her reputation. Bee…Bee has a career – a very serious career in finance with Scotiabank – she has a reputation to uphold and a professional career that takes precedent above all this and--”

“Morgan, Morgan, we know. We understand,” Kyle interrupted as politely as he could. “We’re going to help. We’re going to get to the bottom of this. Steve, Brendan and I have talked about the options.”

“So what’s the solution?” Morgan asked.

“I know that Bee is going to get involved in more charity work with the Lady Leafs this year. What I’m proposing is that we suspend Bee’s account. Right now. We suspend the account, and then we go through each and every single follower with a fine-tooth comb,” Steve proposed. “We ask the hard questions and we face the hard truths. Is it likely this person is going to tell stories to the media? Is it likely this person might engage in the sort of behaviour we’re trying to eliminate? If they pass the test…” he paused, “well, if they pass the test, that’s great. Bee can re-open her account under a completely different username – no mention of Bee’s name, no picture of her as they new profile picture, no initials in the username, _nothing_. Completely private. And then we can use the Briony McTavish handle for public charity work – Lady Leafs initiatives.”

Bee and Morgan listened intently for the duration of Steve’s speech, and the more he spoke, the more it made sense. It wasn’t the perfect solution by any means, but it was _something_, something that would give her an alter ego, so to speak. Something that would protect her privacy and give her some semblance of her privacy back.

Morgan looked at her for an answer. It was all up to her, after all, to make the decision. She nodded her head slowly. “Okay…” she said, finally coming to a decision. “So basically, like, my old account opens up under a completely different, random name.”

“Yes.”

“And we make a new Briony McTavish account.”

“Yes. We actually make it the same as the one you have now, so everybody just thinks you deleted all your photos. That’s possible.”

Bee began nodding her head. “Okay. Okay. I’m good with that. Let’s do that, please.”

“Alright, Bee. Take your phone out.”

*

“You were right.”

Morgan didn’t understand the context of the words that were coming out of Bee’s mouth as they cuddled on the couch together late at night after the meeting. She was lying on top of him, her head resting against his chest, a blanket covering them both as some episode of some TV show played on Netflix on the TV in front of them. “What do you mean?” he asked softly.

“I should have listened to you. I should have listened to you that night we had a fight after the Night With the Blue and White.”

Morgan furrowed his brows. “Bumblebee, what are you talking about?”

She raised her head so her chin was resting on his chest. “You told me that night that you wanted to protect me from the social media that comes along with the hockey media. You told me that the messages weren’t harmless like I thought, and you kept saying that you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if they hurt or scared me. I should have listened to you. They didn’t just want glam shots of Chanel bags or cute pictures of us like I thought. They wanted so much more and I just…I should have listened. I should have listened.”

“Briony…” he said, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her body up so her face was next to his. “It’s not about that, Bumblebee.”

“I know. I know it’s not. But you were right, Morgan, and I’m sorry.”

Morgan gave her a quick kiss, pulling her again and shifting their bodies so that she was nestled between Morgan’s body and the back of the couch. “I meant what I said that night. I will do everything in my power to protect you, Bumblebee. For the rest of our lives.”


	39. Chapter 38

When Bee awoke to soft, quick butterfly kisses on her shoulder and neck early in the morning of her 24th birthday, she knew she was waking up in her own personal form of paradise. With the comforter draped over her body, the morning sun peeking through the blinds, the strong arms wrapped around her body, holding her close – there was nothing better. She could wake up like this everyday.

Wait.

She _did_ wake up like this everyday. Well, almost everyday.

Morgan’s breath was hot against her neck as he continued to kiss and suck lightly on her skin. She moved her legs slightly and backed her ass onto his already hardening member. He groaned slightly, knowing that she was now awake.

“Happy birthday, beautiful,” he mumbled into the crook of her neck. His voice was sleepy, scraggly, and low. She couldn’t help but smile, feeling like the luckiest girl in the world. She turned around to face him.

It didn’t matter that Morgan just had a giant photoshoot and campaign released with RW&Co that saw him looking like a five course meal in a variety of different suits. It didn’t matter that soon she’d be seeing him in suits almost every other night going in and out of Scotiabank Arena. None of it mattered. Her favourite Morgan was here, in bed with her, drowsy blue eyes and messy hair and scruff on his face, his body warm with a cheeky smile adorning his face. This was the best Morgan. This was the Morgan she fell in love with. Not the one situated in front of the cameras, giving answers. Not the one who signed up for sponsorship opportunities with Nike and Hockey Night in Canada and whatever else. Not the hockey player playing over 20 minutes a night. _This_ Morgan. Simple Morgan. The Morgan she saw when they were alone together.

She really was the luckiest girl in the world.

“I love you,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss him.

“I love you too,” he responded, leaning in to kiss her again before their lips and tongues were all over one another’s, kissing passionately for what felt like hours before they had to stop to catch their breath.

It was then that Bee brought her hand up, caressing his cheek, her thumb outlining his lips. “I didn’t think…” she began, wondering if she should even say it. She hesitating before deciding _yes_, she _should_ say it, because it was her 24th birthday and her feelings should be out in the open for Morgan to know. “I didn’t think I was capable of loving another person this much.”

His big blue eyes flashed at her admission. “I didn’t think I could, either,” he admitted.

“But it’s different for me.”

Morgan nodded his head. He knew what she meant. He knew that this was something that had been on her mind for a while, leading up to day, her birthday. He knew that she probably wanted to express it before, but didn’t think she could, or _should_, because of one reason or another that she told herself. But she did now. “Just think. We have the rest of our lives to feel it. To show it.”

Bee couldn’t help but smile before giving him another kiss. “Show me. Show me right now.”

Morgan was more than ready to oblige. He attached his lips to hers again and moved so that his body was over hers. Luckily, he slept without a shirt that night, so when Bee’s hands began to wander over his chest and back and along his shoulders, he was able to feel her delicate touch and her nails sinking gently into his skin, in the area between his shoulder blades. Almost immediately, his hand wandered underneath her shirt – one of his old shirts, technically – and began cupping her breast and pinching her nipple, causing her to arch her back slightly. In no time at all, he shoved the shirt all the way up, over her head, and threw it behind them on the bed.

With Bee underneath him, Morgan took advantage of the situation by kissing from her lips, across her jawline, along her neck and clavicle, all the way to her breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth. He heard Bee let out a small gasp, and that was all he needed to keep going. He paid her breasts a lot of attention, sucking and caressing them, Bee’s soft sighs his fuel for not stopping for a while until he was hungry for more. He began kissing his way down her soft stomach, only for her to stop him.

“Later. Later later later,” she mumbled quickly, trying to pull him back up.

“What? Briony--” Morgan was confused. There was no way. _No_ way he was not going to--

“I just want you in me right now. I want to feel you inside me,” she whispered out, her voice frantic. “Please Morgan.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. I just want to feel you inside me.”

Her pulled her pyjama bottoms off before doing the same with his. Bee wrapped her legs around his torso as he hovered over her and began kissing her again – light, airy kisses until she could feel him at her entrance, pushing in slowly. Another light gasp escaped her lips as he bottomed out. “I love you baby,” she whispered in between more kisses, sighing into him as she began to feel him begin to move in and out of her slowly. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” he replied automatically. He stopped kissing her momentarily to get a good look at her. “Remember the night of the home opener? Karl Marx?”

Bee couldn’t help but smile at the memory. That was the night he tried to seduce her by talking about economics, only to ruin the whole thing and send her into a fit of giggles by mentioning Alan Greenspan. “”Mhm,” she nodded, digging her nails into his shoulder blades again. “You had quite the uprising in your pants that night.”

“Well I’ve been studying more than usual,” he said. “Did you know that a social safety net is essential to the success of any economy, and that Canada should be investing more into public education and healthcare for a more educated and healthier society?”

Bee snorted, much like she did that night. “You sound like you’re running for Prime Minister in October.”

“Oh, it gets better,” Morgan smiled, kissing her quickly. “I finally learned the difference between microeconomics and macroeconomics.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Micro is individuals and businesses, macro is the decisions of countries and governments.”

Bee couldn’t help but smile. “You get an A plus, baby.”

Morgan kissed her again, letting his lips linger for a while. “And get this,” he paused for dramatic effect. “Friedrich Engels.”

Bee snorted again, louder this time, shaking her head at his ridiculousness. “What’s the going interest rate settled by the Bank of Canada?” she asked to go along with his ridiculousness.

“1.75%,” he said matter of factly.

Her eyes went wide. “Morgan Rielly!” she laughed, messing his hair with her hand.

“That was an easy one,” he winked.

“You’re just looking for extra credit,” she teased, biting her lip. “As if you making love to me isn’t enough.”

“You know me, always gotta go that extra mile,” he joked, dipping down to kiss her again as he began to move in and out of her steadily, keeping his lips attached to hers.

It was cheesy, and perhaps a bit overused and repetitive thing to say, but as they lay in the bed together, holding each other and kissing and looking deep into each other’s eyes, Bee thought that there was nothing better than making love. The laughing, the jokes, the soft ‘_I love you’_s escaping their mouths – she loved it all. There was nothing more intimate. There was nothing more soft. There was nothing more that she longed for, that she _would_ long for, when he was gone for the season again.

They came together, naturally, as they knew they would in such a position and with such intimacy. There were more kisses and more bites as they came down from their highs, Morgan collapsing on top of her gently with her legs still wrapped around him. Bee made sure he didn’t move, that he didn’t slip out, savouring the warmth and the feeling of him within her as they regained their breaths, drifting off into a light sleep again, without a care about the outside world.

*

“Can I give you your presents now?”

Bee gave Morgan a look. She had just finished putting on her outfit for the day – “We’re not doing anything fancy until tonight, so keep it casual for now,” Morgan told her, so she opted for a simple scalloped top and jeans – and still needed to decide what to do with her hair. When she looked at him, she could tell he was a bit antsy and didn’t wait to wait. “Let me just put my hair in a bun,” she said, grabbing the elastic from her wrist and putting it in her mouth.

“I’m gonna get them,” she said, immediately shooting up from the bed. She laughed to herself, quickly twisting her hair and securing it tightly with her elastic. When Morgan arrived back in the room carrying two envelopes, Bee couldn’t help the look of shock on her face. It was definitely _not_ that she was expecting more, it was that she was surprised Morgan wasn’t hauling in the entire Chanel store. He warned her he was going to be “a lot”; she told him not to go crazy.

“What’s this?” she asked as he sat beside her on the bed, turning to face her.

“Just a little somethin’,” he wiggled his eyebrows comically. “You need to open this one first.”

“Are you mocking me?” she asked, remembering back to when she told him he needed to open his gifts in a particular order for his own birthday.

“No. Just open it, baby.”

She tore open the envelope delicately to reveal six tickets. When she took a closer look, she noticed that they were for the Saturday, October 26th game the Leafs were having against the Montreal Canadiens. In Montreal. “Tickets to a game?”

“Mhm.”

“In Montreal?”

“Yup. Because I know you’ve never been there. I thought it’d be a good opportunity for you to take a weekend trip there.”

A smile crept its way onto her face. She knew what he was doing. “But…but why are there _six_ tickets?”

“Do you really think I’m going to send you to Montreal and not give the Queen of Montreal herself, Clarette Favaro, and her family tickets as well?” Morgan posed.

Bee’s eyes immediately lit up. “They’re coming too?!” she asked. Morgan nodded his head. “Me, Angie, Mason, Rocco, Clarette, and Josh?”

“You got it.”

“_Morgan_!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him and climbing on top of his lap. She began peppering his face with kisses, mumbling thank you after thank you. She knew her first trip to Montreal would be a memorable one.

“There’s still one more,” he mumbled in between kisses.

“Oh, right,” she remembered, though she stayed on his lap as Morgan handed her the second envelope. She tore it open delicately again to reveal more tickets. This time, it was just one. And this time, when she looked closely at the details, it was for the game against Colorado on Saturday, November 23rd. _In Colorado_.

“Bumblebee?” Morgan asked softly, noticing that she was taking a bit of time to take in what was before her.

“Am I…” she began, pausing. She looked him in the eye. “Am I going to Colorado?”

“You’re going to Colorado.”

“To visit Ashley and Naz and Naylah?”

“To visit Ashley, Naz, and Naylah.”

Bee hesitated before she put the envelope down on the bed beside them and wrapped her arms around Morgan again tightly. She tucked her head into the crook of his neck before exhaling deeply, trying to contain her emotions. “I love you so much,” she mumbled, her lips grazing his skin. “I love you so so so so so much.”

“I love you too.”

“No, you don’t get it. I _love_ love love you.”

Morgan chuckled slightly. “I love love love _love_ you too,” he said, squeezing her tightly. “Always, Bumblebee. _Always_.”

She untucked her head and brought her hands up to cradle his face, kissing him again. She didn’t want to leave. She could have stayed in this position and in the moment for the rest of the day. They didn’t need to do anything else. It was only when he moved to stand, bringing her with him, that she yelped and stopped kissing him. “Morgan!” she screamed, giggling slightly.

“C’mon, we gotta go. I gotta take you out for the day. We’re gonna be busy,” he said in between quick kisses.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” he said before kissing her again.

She rolled her eyes before looking down at the way his arms looked, his muscles bulging as he held her in his arms. “_Jesus_, Mo,” she muttered under her breath, her fingertips grazing his skin. He kept up his workout regimen all summer, and while she usually noticed the changes in his body, for some reason, she hadn’t quite picked up on how…_jacked_ he’d gotten. It was like whatever fat he had last year had turned into muscle and she could now reap the rewards. “Can you carry me the whole way there?”

“Carry you?”

“So I can see your muscles,” she looked down at them, causing him to look down as well. “They grew, baby.”

“They better have, I’ve been lifting all summer.”

Bee giggled slightly. “Bro, do you even lift?”

“Do you seriously want me to carry you all the way to the car?” he asked.

“No!”

“I can – if you want. I mean it’s your bir--”

“Oh shush,” she wiggled out of his grasp until her feet were firmly planted on the floor, despite his arms still being around her waist. “Just promise you’ll wear something tonight that shows off that body.”

“You better promise the same thing,” he said, winking at her before slapping her ass.

*

Bee was a little bit confused as she and Morgan arrived at the Eaton’s Centre. As they walked together, Bee tried to think of the possibilities of where they could end up, but she couldn’t think of why he’d bring her to a _mall_. She was even more confused when he still refused to tell her where they were going. When he made an abrupt stop in front of the Indigo and gave her a look, she was still…well, confused.

“So you brought me to Indigo…” she said, trying to piece the whole thing together. “Why?”

“So you could go crazy,” he said simply.

“Go crazy how?” she asked. She still didn’t get it.

Morgan couldn’t help but chuckle. “You have that list of books you want.”

He was referring to the ongoing list she was curating of all the books she wanted to read and have in her life. Of course, it was constantly changing based on all the new releases. “Yeah…”

“Indigo is a bookstore, Briony. And if you don’t find them here we’ll drive up to Bay and Bloor and get them there. And if not there, we’ll call Yorkdale, Square One…”

She was finally piecing the puzzle together. “You…you want…” she began, doubt somehow still getting the best of her. She took a step forward, but then a step back; her right leg outstretched, waiting to take its step, her body shifting between her two feet, rocking forward and back while standing. She couldn’t move. “You’re…you’re serious?”

“Of course I’m serious,” he said. “C’mon Bumbleblee. I know you’ve always wanted to build your collection.”

He watched as a smile crept its way onto her face. Small at first, almost non-existent, then getting bigger and bigger, eventually taking over her entire face. “I don’t…you’re absolutely _sure_, Morgan.”

Morgan rolled his eyes. “Did you _really_ think your birthday present wouldn’t involve books?” he asked rhetorically. “I am _positive_. Now go.”

*

The day had been everything that Bee could have ever wanted.

She bought most of the books on her list. Morgan followed her around, holding the books and putting them into a rolling basket and wheeling it to the front cash registers, telling the employees _“We’re going to need more baskets”_, then filling up more baskets with books and asking another employee _“Are there any more baskets?”_ and filling those too. By the end of it, after the books had all been bought and were loaded, bag by bag, into Morgan’s car, she looked at all the bags overflowing and said “We’re gonna need more bookcases.”

It took most of the day. So when they got back home, they showered for their night festivities. Except, well, Morgan had other ideas. He wanted to use the showerhead for other purposes. And he did. And he also wanted to use his hands for other purposes. And he did. And it made them a little late for dinner at Jacobs and Co, the famous steakhouse, but by only 20 minutes or so. Then after some great steak, and some even better wine, they stumbled their way over to Early Mercy, right next door, where Angie and Mason, Josh and his boyfriend Patrick, Zach and Alannah, Auston, and Fred were waiting to surprise her and dance the night away. Tyler even surprised her with his attendance, and she practically pushed Auston out of the way to run to him and hug him, pulling him to dance with everyone else. And they did. They danced and they danced and they danced, and then they relaxed out on the patio, and then they danced again, and then it was last call, and Auston tried to convince the manager to keep it open, but to no avail. And so they called Ubers, at 2:30 in the morning, and Tyler went to stay with Auston and took an UberPool with him and Fred, and Morgan and Bee took theirs, making out in the backseat all the way home.

It was why they were giggly when they stumbled back into their apartment. Their kisses were playful and soft and quick and airy as they made their way in, but the second the door closed behind them, Morgan’s kisses became hungrier, his hands wandering down to squeeze her ass.

“I love you so God damn much,” Bee mumbled in between sloppy kisses in their kitchen.

“Bedroom,” Morgan mumbled hastily. “Bedroom. One more surprise. Bedroom.”

“What?” she pulled away from him. “One more?”

“One more,” he said, grabbing her hand and dragging her through the apartment. He kissed her one last time before disappearing into the washroom, leaving her alone on the bed, hot and desperate and confused as to what the fuck was going on.

“_Morgan_,” she begged. “I…what…what do I do?”

“Just wait there,” he called out from the other side of the door.

“Just _wait_?!”

“Make yourself comfortable!”

“_Morgan_!” she chastised. “You can’t be serious!”

“Briony!”

“I don’t know _what_ you’re up to in there but it better be good!”

“Oh, it’s gonna be spectacular,” his voice was mischievous. “Get comfortable.”

“Can I start touching myself?” Bee asked in an equally mischievous voice.

She heard a loud thump and something drop dramatically from inside the bathroom, causing her to snort. God knows what the fuck he was doing in there. “No,” he said hastily. “Don’t. This is gonna be all me.”

Bee waited as patiently as she could, listening to Morgan fuss around in there without a clue in the world as to what he was doing and what surprise he was keeping up his sleeve. It was, of course, only when he unlocked the door and pushed it open dramatically did Bee get an idea about what was going to happen. Standing there, he leaned up against the doorframe wearing a perfectly tailored suit. _Perfectly_ tailored. Slim fit, just how she liked. Crisp white shirt. Perfectly tailored. Navy blue. Did she mention perfectly tailored? Because it was perfectly tailored. And when he began sauntering towards her, she could see just how perfectly tailored it _really_ was, with his thighs and his broad, defined chest and his arms threatening to rip the fabric if he flexed even slightly. Bee gulped.

“A promise is a promise,” Morgan said in a low voice, a shit-eating smirk on his face as he saw the blush on Bee’s cheeks. “I promised I’d wear something tonight that showed off my body.”

Bee shook her head at his ridiculousness before she noticed him starting to take out his phone. “If you start playing Pony by Ginuwine I swear to God I’m not letting you fuck me tonight,” she giggled out.

Morgan shot her a look. “HEY!”

“Just _get over here_, will you?” she beckoned; rising to her knees from her sitting position so she could kiss him. Almost immediately, she stuck her tongue down his throat and tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck, causing him to groan and wrap his arms around her body, still covered in her glittering gold sequined dress she bought especially for her birthday.

Morgan’s hands slipped underneath the fabric, playing with the material of her underwear before he helped her get out of them, dropping them in between them onto the floor. Bee’s hands began wandering all over his chest, over the material of his shirt, not bothering to unbutton it. Eventually, Morgan’s hand slipped underneath her dress again and began playing with the lips of her pussy, causing her to whimper in pleasure.

“You’re already so wet for me,” he mumbled as he inserted one finger.

“It’s the suit,” she winked, biting down on his bottom lip as she felt him insert a second finger. “You have no idea how good you look.”

“Lie down on your back and spread your legs for me,” he ordered, his voice low.

There was a flash in Bee’s eyes as Morgan watched her do what she was told. She kept her eyes on him the entire time as she lay on the edge of the bed. Morgan hooked her legs in his arms and pulled her towards the edge, letting them dangle off the bed. He pushed the fabric of her dress up before kneeling in front of her, licking his lips. “I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he said.

“It’s all yours, Mr. Rielly,” she smiled, watching as he dove in. No pretence, no teasing – just going right for it, his lips and tongue attaching themselves to her pussy, bringing Bee – as always – the greatest pleasure she’d ever known. She ran her fingers through his hair and tugged on it as he continued to lap at her hungrily, squeezing his head between her thighs when the feeling was too pleasurable to handle.

“Baby…baby baby baby,” Bee breathed out as she felt him insert two fingers while he sucked on her clit. “_Fuck_, Morgan, it’s so – it’s so good.”

“Cum on my face,” he ordered again, knowing she was close. He began curling his fingers inside of her, causing her to squirm, and before long, she was screaming out his name, his face becoming wet with her juices as he lapped up every last bit of her. When he was finished, he began smothering her with kisses, and she could taste herself on his mouth as she kissed him back, wrapping her legs around his torso. He began unbuttoning the white shirt he was wearing, but didn’t get too far before Bee stopped him.

“Keep it on. Keep it on,” she mumbled quickly.

His stopped dead in his tracks. “Keep it on?”

“For fuck sakes, keep it on,” her breathing was heavy, her voice hasty. “Keep it on and fuck me.”

He practically growled as he picked her up, her legs still wrapped around him, and held her in his arms. When he placed her onto their dresser, he felt her hands dip between them and unzip his pants, pulling them and his underwear down just enough to free his hard cock. She began stroking it as he moved to kiss down her neck, pushing the fabric of her dress down to expose her breasts in their lace bra. He pushed the lace down and began pinching her nipples, eventually taking one into his mouth and sucking, twirling his tongue around it.

“Morgan, please,” her breath was heavy. “I want you to fuck me so bad. I can’t wait anymore.”

Morgan pulled her off the dresser, turning her around so her back was towards him, bending her over it. He could see her smile as he pushed up the fabric of her dress again so it bunched at her hips. He teased her at her entrance before thrusting into her in one go, causing her to cry out in pleasure. The smile that played on her lips continued as he moved in and out of her. “_Fuck_ Morgan, that feels so good.”

“You like it when I bend you over like this?” he asked, to which Bee nodded her head enthusiastically. “You like me taking you from behind.”

“_Yes_.”

“Are you gonna be a good girl for your birthday?”

“_Yes_, fuck, yes. Yes. I’m gonna be your best girl.”

He tugged at her hair, making her arch her back as he pulled her towards him. He kissed and bit at her neck and shoulder, slipping an arm around her body and grabbing one of her breasts. “I love you, baby,” he cooed, biting at her neck. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” she breathed out. “_God_ Morgan, I love you so much.”

“Did you like your birthday?”

She nodded her head. She was finding it hard to keep a conversation while her back was arched the way it was and he was still pounding into her, with his fucking suit on, but this was the situation she found herself in. “Of course I did. This was my best birthday ever because of you.”

He began walking back, slow enough so he wouldn’t slip out, until he fell back onto the bed, Bee’s body with his. She began riding him reverse cowgirl, looking over her shoulder at him lying there, still in his suit, all dishevelled and ready to be ripped off of him. “Cum with me baby. Are you close?”

Morgan nodded his head. “Bounce on that dick, baby.”

She continued riding him, squeezing his thighs over the fabric of his suit, until she squeezed her walls around him and felt him explode inside of her. She came again, her body shaking from pleasure until she fell back onto him trying to catch her breath. She felt his arms wrap around her. “Fuck Mo, that was so fucking hot,” she breathed out.

He took a few moments to respond – she knew he was trying to catch his breath too. “Never knew _this_ was the possibility whenever I wore a suit,” he joked.

“Well now you know. Every suit you have makes me feel like this.”

“You’re telling me every game day suit I have makes you this hot and bothered?” he asked. Bee nodded her head. “We gotta do this more often.”

Bee couldn’t help but laugh. “Show up in the bedroom with a suit on more often and we just might.”

Morgan slipped out of her slowly, pulling her body to his side, hooking one of her legs over his torso as they lay in bed together, their clothes wrinkled and bunched up. “Do you think about how around this time last year, we were at dbar with Fred and Auston?”

Bee nodded her head. “A lot has happened since then, huh?”

“Mhm,” he mumbled, kissing her quickly. “What a year it’s been.”

“Still in bed together though,” she said cheekily, thinking about how, just maybe a week before that night at dbar, it was their first time together after Morgan had returned from Vancouver. “Some things never change.”

“Yeah, well, I plan to be in bed together all night,” Morgan said.

“Me too,” Bee’s eyes flashed. “Again. And _again_. I want to go all night.”

Morgan let out a deep chuckle. “Don’t worry baby. I got you,” he said, slipping his fingers into her pussy again.


	40. Chapter 39

Bee watched the video about thirty times in a row before she came to terms with it.

At first, it was because Hank was so cute. Sitting there on his blanket on the grass in his little striped onesie, his chubby rolls on full display, he rattled a Tupperware full of snacks with his helmet on. She couldn’t keep her eyes off of him and his big smile, and when he laughed excitedly at the end, her heart warmed. It was a happy noise he made countless times when he was in her arms too, though she hadn’t heard it in person since May. It was now September.

It was only after she registered how cute Hank was that Bee heard Jake’s voice in the background. “Where we goin’ this year? Where we goin’ this year man?” he beckoned Hank, who looked at him with some confusion. Eventually, he looked to the side, his helmet revealing the Carolina Hurricanes logo.

It was then, and only then, that Bee felt her heart drop into her stomach. Carolina. Jake, Lucy, and Hank were moving to Raleigh, North Carolina, to be members of the Carolina Hurricanes.

On the one hand, Bee was happy. She knew how hard of a time Jake had in Toronto. She knew demons followed him from game sevens of the past and bad defensive mistakes. She knew all that. Carolina would be quieter – _much_ quieter – if there was even going to be any noise _at all_. Carolina was a small market team, and not on a lot of people’s radars besides their whole ‘Bunch of Jerks’ campaign and their playoff run. They were a young team, with a good coach, and nothing to lose. It would be a perfect fit for Jake after the loud, emotionally draining eight years of being in Toronto.

But she had to think selfishly, on some level. Lucy was gone. Yet another one of her rocks gone to another city. A woman who took her under her wing, taught her about hockey, took her shopping after the break in, and made her feel at home amongst the Toronto Maple Leafs organization; a woman who knew exactly how to cheer her up with pictures and videos of Hank; a woman who bestowed upon her the title of “Auntie Bee” that Bee kept so near to her heart.

For Morgan, his best friend – gone. The man he roomed with when he first came to Toronto. The man he “shared custody” of Uma the Puma with. The man who cut Morgan’s hair, helped him properly tie ties, teased with weird Americanisms and sayings, and drove crazy until finally moving out. For Jake, a groomsman at his wedding. A guy who, despite being three and a half years younger than him, acted like an older brother while navigating the hockey life and living in a new city. “Uncle Morgan.”

Bee cried silently to herself. She was alone in her office – with Morgan working out at the gym that morning – when the news broke. She assumed Jake probably tried to get a hold of Morgan before he posted the video, but Morgan never checked his phone during a workout. He would have called Bee to let her know. It was only when Mark Travers knocked on her door that she was brought back down to reality, having to compose herself in less than ten seconds before he opened the door and walked into her office.

“I was wondering if you have those updates spreadsheets for Peralta and Partners,” he said, focused on reading whatever was on his phone.

“Yeah, of course,” she said, her voice soft, trying not to sound like she had just been crying. She gathered the files he needed, getting up from her desk and handing it to him. “Here you go.”

He took the files from her and was due to walk out of her office without even looking at her once during the entire interaction. She was thankful – worried that her eyes were still red – but once he stopped in the doorway and turned around, that all went away. “You hear that Gardiner signed with Carolina?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah,” she nodded her head slightly. “I just heard.”

“Maybe we’ll finally have room for Mitch. And fuck – maybe we’ll finally replace him with a half-decent defenseman,” Mark quipped, finally looking at her. “What’s Mo think?”

Bee held her breath. She didn’t want to get emotional in front of her boss. She liked Mark, but she wanted to yell at him for his comment. “Morgan and Jake are best friends. Morgan was in his wedding party. So I assume he isn’t going to be the happiest about this,” she said simply, curtly, with no emotion.

Mark pursed his lips at her words. He realized the tone in which he said his comment probably wasn’t the best. “Ah. Well then. That makes me a bit of a dick then, doesn’t it?”

She wasn’t going to answer that question. “Do you need to bring those spreadsheets into the Peralta meeting or not?”

Mark decided to leave her alone, closing her office door behind him so nobody would bother her. Bee let out the breath she was holding and shook her head, letting a few stray tears fall again. After composing herself, she picked up her phone, reading over Lucy’s Instagram post again and again before she finally tapped to comment and began writing something out. She must have started, deleted, and changing things over a dozen times before she finally hit post.

**@brionymctavish**: _Lucy <3 <3 <3 you know how much you, Jake, and Hank mean to me. From the beginning you guys welcomed me with open arms and treated me like family – the family I never had. The way you and Jake helped after the break in and after my mother passed away is a testament to how good you are as people. You have no clue how much I love you guys. Your Toronto family will miss you so dearly. I hope Jake won’t be able to smell Morgan in Carolina…_

*

“I can come in with you, if you want,” Morgan offered as they sat in the waiting room together, her hand clasped tightly in his, resting on his lap. “If you’re really nervous or --”

“It’s okay,” Bee intervened. “You sound more nervous than I am.”

“I know this was your decision,” Morgan started, “and you know I support you a hundred percent. Always. I just know this is your first time and it’s going to be heavy and you’ll probably start talking about things that will bring up some bad memories for you and--”

“Briony McTavish?” the receptionist called out, a smile on her face. Bee perked up. “Doctor Rowell is ready for you.”

Bee could feel Morgan squeeze her hand even tighter. He gave her another look before she began to stand up. “Briony, I can come if you--”

“It’s okay, Morgan,” she assured him, bending down to kiss him. “Go get some coffee. It’ll just be an hour.”

Morgan stood up to be at level with her and kissed her again. “Are you sure?”

“I’m positive. This is going to be great. It’s going to help so much.”

Morgan nodded his head. He knew she was right. “I love you Bumblebee. Always.”

“And I love you too.”

Bee began making her way further into the office, looking back one time and noticing Morgan waiting for her to disappear down the corridor. The receptionist led her to an office near the end of the hallway where a professionally dressed woman in her early 40s was writing something at her desk. “Doctor Rowell, your new patient Briony McTavish is here.”

Dr. Rowell’s smile was warm, and she immediately stood up from her desk to greet her. “It’s nice to meet you, Briony,” she extended her hand. “I’m Georgina Rowell.”

“You can call me Bee,” Bee smiled as she shook her hand. “It’s very nice to meet you, Doctor Rowell.”

“You can close the door, Deborah,” Dr. Rowell said. “Briony, you can take a seat,” she motioned to the chairs in the room as she began walking back to her desk. Both women settled into their seats comfortably before making eye contact again and smiling. “Is this your first ever therapy session, Briony?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Well then, let’s get started.”

*

Bee’s heart was pounding out of her chest as she tried to walk calmly through the hospital, appeasing the skip in her step and the fact that she wanted to scream from the top of her lungs in pure jubilation. _‘Aryne had the baby!!!!! Did you hear?! ARYNE HAD THE BABY!!!!!’_ she wanted to scream at every doctor, nurse, patient, attendant, porter – _anybody_ she walked by. She couldn’t contain the smile on her face. She’d called Morgan, already in Newfoundland for training camp, to let him know. She’d scream it from the rooftops if she could. Megaphone and everything.

She knocked softly on the door of Aryne’s room, flowers in one hand. “Hello?” she asked.

She noticed John peek his head back from the chair he was sitting on. “Hey, come in,” he whispered, beckoning her inside the room.

Bee shuffled in quickly, seeing John sitting on his chair beside the bed, Aryne propped up comfortably with the baby in her arms. He was wrapped up in his little blanket and hat – the traditional ones that hospitals always gave – his face scrunched up, his eyes closed. Aryne was beaming down at him. John too. In that moment, nothing else mattered in the world.

“Congratulations,” Bee whispered, hugging John from behind.

“Meet our baby boy. Baby Jace,” Aryne smiled.

Bee beamed from ear to ear. “Baby _boy_! Baby _Jace_!” she whispered-screamed, containing a squeal. She got as close as she could without being too eager and overbearing, taking into account all his little features and expressions. Aryne couldn’t keep her eyes off of him; neither could John. “You guys…he’s perfect.”

“It was quite the labour,” John commented, rubbing Aryne’s leg through the sheets. “Maybe ten hours or so? They weighed him at a whopping nine pounds, seven ounces.”

Bee’s eyes bulged out of their sockets. “Nine-seven?! Fuck Aryne…God bless,” she giggled.

“I know, right?” Aryne rolled her eyes playfully. “But he’s healthy – that’s what matters. I’d do it all over again.”

Bee set the flowers down on the windowsill before she sat on the edge of Aryne’s bed. John stood up to leave them alone, saying he was going to go get some coffee, kissing Aryne before kissing baby Jace’s forehead. Aryne told Bee about the labour and delivery, how nice all the hospital staff and nurses were, and how their families had already visited and were due back that night to help out. The meeting with the lactation consultant went wonderfully and Jace was already a pro. John had already changed a diaper. They were going to be discharged tomorrow, thankfully, so they could go home and start nesting. Jace was sleeping, or else Aryne would have let Bee hold him, but both women knew there would be many, _many_ opportunities to hold him in the future.

“This’ll be you one day, you know,” Aryne said softly, looking between Bee and Jace. “I’m not saying it’s going to happen to you tomorrow or whatever, but it’s going to happen for you.”

Bee inhaled deeply. “Yeah. I know.”

“You see that for yourself, right? I know that Angie tells you that all the time…that you deserve all the good things in life in spite of what happened in your past. And I don’t mean kids. I mean, like…_happiness_.”

Bee nodded her head. “I do. I see it with Morgan.”

“He sees it with you too,” Aryne said. “Like I even have to tell you that. I think he saw it with you the first time he laid eyes on you.”

“I don’t think so,” Bee chuckled slightly.

“Well _I_ think so,” Aryne smiled. “And I happen to think you two would make the cutest babies in existence, but that’s neither here nor there. I hope you see happiness with me too – well, me, John, Jace, the Leafs…”

Bee nodded her head. She knew what Aryne was getting at. She knew Aryne was in a very emotional state right now and that she needed to hear these words, but it wasn’t like Bee was saying them just to appease her. Bee meant it. She truly, _truly_ meant it. Despite what had happened to her this past year – the break in, her mother dying, Morgan’s March conundrum, game seven with Boston, her friends leaving, and most recently, the alcoholism reveal, she was the happiest she had ever been, by a long shot. Despite those things happening, she met the most amazing people, participated in the most amazing events, landed her dream job, graduated with a Master’s, made more friends, and started volunteer work. It was an emotional rollercoaster, but it was the best year of her life. “Of course I do. You guys are my family,” she said softly. “I don’t…I don’t see it with _anybody_ else besides you guys. This is the family I’ve built for myself.”

Aryne’s eyes began watering. “Okay. Okay,” she nodded, trying to keep it together. “Sorry. I’m just --”

“Why are you apologizing? You just had a baby eight hours ago,” Bee couldn’t help but smile. “I’d be an emotional fucking wreck.”

“I _am_ though!” Aryne giggled through her tears. “I _am_ an emotional wreck! I can’t believe how close we’ve gotten in how short a time, and I can’t believe how it feels like you were always meant to be in my life.”

“You were always meant to be in my life too. I think you were always meant to be like my big sister. The big sister I never had,” Bee rubbed her arm.

“I love it. I take that role very seriously, if you can’t tell,” Aryne said, wiping stray tears from her eyes. “Even John. Your big brother.”

“John’s…” Bee tried to find the right words to express what she was feeling. “He’s been…the _best_,” she was about to get emotional now too. She thought back to the phone call he made to her after Danielle approached her in the restaurant. Encouraging her to get lawyers involved. Offering _his_ lawyer. The wise advice he gave her. He was on the phone with her for a good half an hour, listening to her and talking to her about everything. He was a rock. She always knew he was a rock, but that confirmed it for her.

“I just want to make sure you know how loved you are, and how much we consider you like family,” Aryne said. “I mean it, Tia Bee.”

“Tia?”

“Portuguese for aunt,” Aryne informed her. “Hank and Jace don’t know how lucky they are to have an aunt like you.”

*

“If your boyfriend kisses a fish he’s never allowed to kiss me hello again.”

Bee snorted at Angie’s words as Mason plopped down beside her on the couch with a bowl of popcorn. “Shut it. He’s becoming a Newfoundlander.”

“I think there are other ways of becoming a Newfoundlander besides kissing a cod fish on the lips,” Angie grimaced.

“There isn’t!” Bee exclaimed. “He told me he volunteered to do it. They’re all gonna go to a bar. They get certificates and everything.”

“You should frame it and put it up next to your Master’s diploma.”

Bee pinched the skin on Angie’s forearm tightly, causing her to yelp. Mason almost spilled the popcorn. “You’re mean, you know that?”

“Ladies, have we picked a movie?” Mason intervened. “Do I need to sit in between you to separate you? You know, like you’re _five_?”

“We’ll behave _mom_,” Angie sneered jokingly. “I think we decided on The Prince and Me.”

“The Prince and Me? _Really_?”

“It was filmed at Victoria College, Mason,” Bee said. “Plus who wouldn’t want to make out with a Danish prince in the stacks of E.J. Pratt library?”

“I bet Freddie Andersen made some girl’s dreams come true that way,” Angie quipped again.

Another pinch from Bee; another yelp from Angie. “Do _not_ bring my darling Fred into this.”

“Into _what_?”

“Your perverted mind!”

“You’re telling me you’ve _never_ fantasized about bringing Morgan into Pratt or Robarts to an obscure section where no-one ever goes so he could fuck you against the stacks?”

Bee stayed silent. Mason pretended to gag. Angie had a proud look on her face. “Case closed.”

“I hate you.”

“I love you too,” Angie made a kissy face. “Now give me some of that popcorn.”

They settled into the couch and cuddled into each other as they began the movie, sharing the popcorn amongst them – finishing it early enough that it forced Mason to make another batch in the microwave. Cuddling on the couch with them, stuffing her face with popcorn, watching a cheesy romantic movie, reminded Bee of her life before Morgan. Before Morgan, it was just the three of them, together, against the world. So much had changed since then, with the entrance of the Leafs, with people like Tyler and Fred and John and Aryne, with travels to Vancouver, with media attention, with DMs, and with her education and job. When she thought about it – when she _really_ thought about it – Bee couldn’t believe it had all happened within the year. She was in such a different place than she was a year ago, but that was a good thing.

She was moving forward.

But at the same time, she could always go back to cuddling on the couch with Angie and Mason. It was somewhat true, she thought, the saying that she’d heard time and time again: the more things change, the more they stay the same.

Near the end of the movie, Bee felt her phone vibrate a few times. When she saw that it was Morgan texting her some pictures, she immediately opened the message. The first few were of the scenery around town in St. John’s, and of the coastline where it looked like he, Fred, and Jason Spezza all went for a hike on Signal Hill. It was the following pictures that piqued her interest. Darker and less scenic, she knew exactly what they were before she even opened them. When they enlarged on her screen, she smiled.

“What’s got you smirking, Bee?” Mason asked.

“Folks…I think my boyfriend has replaced me with a cod fish.”

Angie’s eyes bulged at her words. “If you show me that picture I’m gonna barf.”

Bee did anyway. She turned her phone screen to them. Mason was thoroughly enjoying it; Angie was gagging. Bee swiped through the pictures and laughed when she landed on the last one. “Look! Even the Crown Prince of Denmark got in on the action!” she squealed, showing the picture of Fred kissing the same fish.

“FRED!” Angie wailed, horrified and disgusted all at once. “_How could he_?!”

“He’s an honourary Newfoundlander!” Mason exclaimed excitedly.

“I’m never going to look at those soft lips the same way again,” Angie grimaced.

Mason shot her a horrified look, causing Bee to start laughing uncontrollably. In between her laughs she could hear Mason huff, _“Does this mean Fred is a part of your freebie five now? I don’t know if I like that! He’s too close!”_

*

“I’ve gotta bring you to Newfoundland,” Morgan mumbled in between Bee’s kisses as they were cuddling on the couch the night of his arrival back to Toronto. “The water is_ so blue_, Bumblebee. And the people are so nice. The accent is a bit interesting, but my God, I’ve never met such genuinely nice people in my life.”

Bee giggled as she stopped kissing him momentarily to look him in the eye. “You’re gonna have to bring me,” she said, a mischievous grin on her face. “Or maybe I’ll go with Angie.”

“Whomever you go with, you just need to go,” his breathing was heavy. “You’ll love the water Bee – _love_ the water – it’s just so _blue_. And you can get screeched in too.”

“Are we gonna kiss the same fish?”

“I don’t know if I like you kissing something Auston has also kissed,” he quipped, causing her to laugh out loud. “He already made out with one of your cupcakes. I think that’s enough.”

“Come here,” she bit her lip before leaning in to start kissing him again. She took the initiative to take off her sweater, leaving her in just her plain t-shirt bra. That didn’t stop Morgan from kissing down her neck and licking his way over to the top of her breasts, escalating things even quicker than she had anticipated.

“I missed you so much,” he mumbled against her skin as he worked on unclasping her bra. “Missed your lips. Your skin. Your boobs.”

“You always miss my boobs.”

“They’re the best boobs in the fucking world,” he mumbled, finally unclasping it and snaking it off her arms before throwing it on the coffee table. She couldn’t help but giggle again as he dove in, his lips running amuck along her skin, licking and sucking at one of her nipples.

Bee enjoyed the feeling of hit hot mouth and tongue on her breasts, as she always did, and slipped her hands underneath his hoodie to feel his abs and chest. Eventually, she took it off of him, leading him to wrap his arms around her and lie her down on the couch, hovering on top of her. He kissed his way down her body to the top of the leggings she was wearing, pulling them off with ease. “I missed this the most,” he mumbled, feeling the heat from her core as he placed his hand in between her thighs, over the plain cotton underwear she was wearing.

“Did you?” she breathed out.

“You _know_ I always do,” he said. “I can’t wait to bury my face in your pussy, baby.”

“Then why don’t you?” she arched her eyebrow, her voice holding a little bit of attitude in it.

Morgan smirked, shoving her underwear off before spreading her legs open with his hands. “You saucy minx,” he said with an equal amount of attitude. “You’re lucky I’m desperate to taste you or else I’d tease the fuck out of you.”

He didn’t waste time as he began to lap at her and suck on her clit, causing her to moan out his name and squirm. Like he’d done countless times before, he brought his arms up and held her in place, keeping her pleasure in his control. The moans of his name became louder and louder the more he lapped at her, and eventually, she was a swearing, screaming mess on the couch, shaking from pleasure as she was sure her juices coated Morgan’s face, just how he liked it. When he finally stopped, rising from his position and hovering over her body, she watched as he licked his lips hungrily before he dipped down to kiss her. “You taste so fucking good.”

“Mo--”

“So fucking _sweet_. So fucking delicious,” he mumbled against her lips in between sticking his tongue into her mouth. She made sure to shove his pants down his legs to free his cock. “I could eat you all fucking night.”

Bee smiled as she felt his arms snake around her body again, and he pulled her up and adjusted their positions so she was sitting on his lap again. Almost immediately, she grabbed his cock and sat on it, grabbing the couch behind Morgan’s head to steady herself. Morgan buried his face between her breasts again as she adjusted to his size, slowly rocking back and forth.

“We still gonna go to Positano?” she asked softly, giving him a quick kiss.

“Of course.”

“And Lake Como?”

“Yes.”

“And New Zealand?”

“Yes.”

“And Turkmenistan?” she smirked.

Morgan huffed, a smile playing on his face. “Turkmenistan and Antarctica.”

“And now Newfoundland.”

“And now Newfoundland,” Morgan affirmed. “I fucked you on a boat on the west coast and I’ll fuck you in a boat on the east coast too.”

Bee couldn’t help but laugh again. “Promise?”

“Oh, _I promise_.”

She continued to rock back and forth on his cock, shoving her breasts into his face and increasing her pace. Morgan’s hands travelled all over her body before one snaked its way between them, his thumb rubbing at her clit. It didn’t take long for her to reach her climax, screaming out his name and shuddering in his arms. Morgan kept thrusting in and out of her until he got his sweet release too, causing her to shiver again as she felt him filling her up.

As they came down from their highs, Bee moved so she could look Morgan in the eyes, cupping his face between her hands. “I’m gonna miss you so much when the season starts again.”

“Shhhhh…” Morgan responded almost immediately. “Don’t. Don’t do this to yourself Bee.”

“I’m just saying--”

“Shhhhh,” he repeated, kissing her. “Just focus on the now. Us. Together. Right now.”

Bee nestled her face into the crook of his neck. She thought about how cold the bed would be without him, but how warm it would be when he returned. She thought about how empty the apartment would be with just her and Bruce, but how full it would feel when he returned. She thought about how empty the couch would be with only she and Brucey cuddling, but how warm and cozy it would be when he returned. Morgan just made everything better; it was the type of person he was. It was how he changed her life. “If I had my way I’d have you with me all the time,” she said, her voice quiet.

“Me too, Bumblebee. If I had my way we’d stay like this forever.”


	41. Chapter 40

“You look beautiful Bumblebee,” Morgan said softly as he watched Bee adjust her dress in the mirror of the elevator, patting it down and straightening it out and running her hands through her hair one last time. She looked so elegant and stylish and Morgan couldn’t believe how good she looked in just a black turtleneck and tweed dress.

“You think so?” she asked absent-mindedly. “I made sure the dress--”

“Bumblebee, you look great. So elegant. You _always_ look great,” Morgan reiterated. “You could have worn a burlap sac.”

“Um, Larry Tanenbaum is going to be here. I don’t think he’d appreciate me showing up in a burlap sac,” she quipped. She had to take a day off work for this. She was so lucky Mark was a hockey fan and let her do stuff like this without question – if it was anybody else, she probably wouldn’t be able to afford the luxury.

“You’ve _met_ Larry Tanenbaum before.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know he was _Larry Tanenbaum_. I thought he was just some old guy.”

Morgan snorted. “I think her prefers that, to be honest.”

Bee took a deep breath, trying to collect herself and her thoughts. “I just…do you…do you remember New Year’s Eve?”

“When you asked me _‘Do you like me more with all the nice clothes?’_” Morgan asked, knowing automatically what she was talking about. That night still stood out to him, all this time later, as a night they had really progressed in their relationship and their trust in each other. Bee had expressed insecurity about her new situation; Morgan helped boost her confidence to get her through it. That confidence kept growing and growing. Now, she stood before him as a self-assured woman, _mostly_ confident in her place in the world. _Mostly_, because nobody was ever truly _fully_ confident. But she had learned. She grew. She adapted.

Bee nodded her head. “I was so…_different_ back then. I thought there would be two different Brionys. I thought there was like, poor and rich Briony. Cheap Briony and…you know, old Briony and new Briony. I never considered that like…Briony – _me_ – I can be a _progression_,” she expressed. “I don’t have to be stuck to my old self. I don’t have to be stuck to my old thoughts or old habits. I can be a progression.”

“Of course you can,” Morgan nodded his head. “You can be anything you want to be, Bumblebee.”

“I want to be a _progression_,” she reiterated once more, her voice more confident. “I want to be Briony McTavish who was once nervous and thought she didn’t belong, but is now confident in meeting and interacting with people as rich and influential as Larry Tanenbaum. I want to be Briony McTavish who is confident in making her way around the room. I want to be Briony McTavish who is confident in her position, in her job…in her life.”

Morgan smiled down at her. He couldn’t help but lean down and kiss her as she finished her thought. “You’re the bee’s knees, Bumblebee,” he mumbled against her lips.

Before Bee could say anything else, the elevator pinged and the doors opened, and John and Aryne appeared on the other side. John, like Morgan, was wearing a smart suit, holding Jace in his arms who was sporting baby jeans and cardigan style top. Aryne wore a beautiful wrap style dress, covered somewhat by a spit-up towel resting on her shoulder. John’s and Aryne’s faces lit up when they realized Morgan and Bee were in the elevator.

“Hey strangers,” Aryne smiled.

“Hey Captain,” Bee winked, causing John to smile from ear to ear. “Have you gotten used to it yet?” she asked.

“No chance,” he shook his head. “My dad started sobbing on the phone when I told him. Mom too.”

“Looks like the investment in those Leafs sheets paid off, huh?” Morgan smiled at John.

“You have no idea, buddy.”

They rode the elevator up together to the Platinum Club, where Bee assumed Kyle, Brendan, Mike, and Larry were all already waiting for their arrival. Larry and Brendan had arranged the lunch so that the leadership core – captain John, and alternate captains Morgan, Auston, and Mitch – could talk about the expectations they had for the team this season, their leadership roles, what they envisioned for the team and their futures with the Leafs. After their lunch – and what Bee assumed would be a relaxed afternoon – the rest of the team was coming for a cocktail and hors d’oeuvres reception.

The season began tomorrow. There was an excitement in the air that Bee couldn’t describe.

When the doors opened, Bee could see Brendan Shanahan, wine glass already in hand, speaking with someone that looked extremely familiar. As everyone exited the elevator and approached him with smiles on their faces, Bee’s breath hitched in her throat when she realized who it was: Masai Ujiri.

John greeted Brendan first, who pretended to ignore him playfully in favour of paying attention to Jace, cooing at him and pinching his cheeks like he was Jace’s grandpa. Brendan gave warm hugs to Aryne and Morgan, who then went on to greet Masai Ujiri like it was no big deal, before focusing his attention on Bee. “How’ve you been, Bee?”

“Good, thank you,” she smiled warmly. “Thank you for having us here, Brendan.”

Brendan moved to gesture towards Bee as he faced Masai. “Mr. Ujiri, this is Briony McTavish,” Brendan introduced them as they shook each other’s hand. “She’s part of the Maple Leafs family. Her partner is our assistant captain Morgan Rielly and she’s a junior financial analyst at Scotia--”

“Briony McTavish…Briony McTavish! The girl who wrote me a thank you note,” Masai smiled at her warmly. “That’s a good practice you know – thank you notes.”

“Oh, thank you sir,” Bee replied nervously. She thought there was _no_ way that, after everything Masai went through this summer, he’d remember her silly little thank you note over everything else. This was a man who helped the Raptors win a championship; a man who was one of the focal points of a parade attended by over two million people; a man who finally brought a championship to Toronto – a feat not accomplished since the 1990s. There was nothing special about her, but everything special about him, and he was the one remembering her thank you note.

“It was the only one I received,” he winked. That explained it, she thought, although she still didn’t believe it. She was convinced this was one big elaborate joke. “I put it up in my office on a bookshelf. The art of writing one is being lost and I think you’re the one who’s going to bring it back, Ms. McTavish.”

She laughed, still nervous but trying to calm down. She had to remember what she just said in the elevator. She could be confident. She could fit. “I was just trying to be polite after you gave us the tickets to the playoff game,” she tried to explain herself – as if she needed to. “I don’t need to tell _you_ that Raptors tickets weren’t easy to come by so I just wanted to thank you.”

“I know! And any girl who writes a thank you note is one worth keeping,” he winked at Morgan, elbowing him playfully. “Did you have a good summer, Morgan?”

“Oh, yes sir,” Morgan nodded his head. “Briony graduated with her Master’s in Financial Economics from U of T, and we went back to Vancouver for two weeks. Even spent some time up at a cottage.”

“A Master’s in Financial Economics? Congratulations, Briony. That’s quite an achievement,” Masai commented.

“Thank you sir.”

“Are you excited for the upcoming season?”

“Very much so,” Bee and Morgan said at the same time, causing Masai and Brendan to laugh.

“We have a gift for you once Mitch and Auston get here,” Masai revealed, turning towards Brendan who smiled and nodded his head once. “I think you boys will be very excited. A gift from us at the Raptors, if you will.”

Once Auston, Mitch, and Steph arrived, the waiters and waitresses began bringing out charcuterie boards as appetizers and decorated the tables with more wine bottles and even champagne. After some chitchatting, Masai left the room and re-entered holding a ball. It was a championship ball, he explained, from one of the Raptors’ games against Golden State. Used during one of the championship games. He was giving it to the Leafs as a gift. To motivate them. To drive them. To let them know that they could achieve that success too. That with hard work, they would be rewarded too. The boys went nuts for it. They were calm, but Bee could tell they loved every minute of it and were silently freaking out. They held the ball in their hands so delicately, as if the ball would break. They decided that they’d give the ball to the player of the game for every game they won. Babcock would start it off. Then the player would choose the next. Motivation. Drive. Achievement. Reward.

Eventually Masai had to leave, which was the cue for everybody to sit down at the table and formally begin their lunch. Bee ordered the pistachio and sunflower crusted lamb shank. The waitress poured her a glass of wine and chilled champagne. Once all the food came, there was a toast.

“To the MLSE organization,” Larry began the toast, holding his champagne glass up.

“To the leadership core,” Brendan said after him.

“To the Toronto Maple Leafs hockey club,” Kyle followed.

“To the best administration currently running a hockey club,” Mike Babcock followed.

“To the greatest fans in the NHL,” John said.

“To home,” Aryne said.

“To Scotiabank Arena,” Steph said.

“To Hall and Oats blasting through the speakers,” Mitch said.

“To a second home,” Auston said.

“To the greatest hockey city in the world,” Morgan said.

Everybody looked at Bee. She took a deep breath. “To the Toronto Maple Leafs _family_,” she said.

Brendan and Kyle smiled.

*

_Trying to seem so classy with that dress…everyone knows you’re trash!_

_That dress looks so good on you! _

_U caption that pic ‘family’ but everyone from Aryne Tavares to Brendan Shanahan knows ur fake and only with Mo for the money. Can’t believe they invited u and u had the audacity to show up! Are they really ur family when u had to push ur way in?_

_Cute caption, cute photo <3 I’m so jealous of you._

_You’re just showing off now. We know you’re a WAG. Get over yourself honey!_

_Notice that ur beside Jennifer Spezza and one person away from Aryne instead of being right beside her like u always are…I bet u guys already had a falling out. She probably saw right through ur lies._

_Do you really have to force Mo to cling on to you like he does in every photo? It makes you look so desperate for attention._

_Hi Bee you look very nice I bet ur happy there’s no more Cassie!!!!!_

_Did you buy that dress yourself or did you make Mo buy it for you?_

_Why didn’t the wags take a big group pic? R u guys not getting along?_

*

Bee’s cheeks were flushed red from the wine all the way back home. She was getting antsy in the back of the taxi, but she knew she had to keep her cool. Morgan, for his part, was also antsy. They had been around people all day, and while he enjoyed their company, there was nothing he longed for more than to be alone with his girlfriend.

Bee had met many new faces that night, and perhaps the friendliest – at least the faces she spent the most time with – were new Leaf Jason Spezza’s four daughters, all who were clamouring for Bee’s attention. Morgan would watch as she interacted with them, complimenting them on her dresses and following them around the venue hand-in-hand, approaching various people, and he couldn’t help but smile. When the entire group posed for a picture, Lucia even clung on to Bee’s leg. She was asleep in Jason’s arms by the end of the night, which was good since she probably would have cried if she saw Bee leave.

When the taxi finally dropped them off, they walked hand in hand into their building and up the elevator to their apartment in silence. Bruce greeted them at the door, meowing happily at his owners’ return.

“Hi Brucey,” Bee cooed as she bent down to pick him up, cradling him against her chest. “Did you miss us, Brucey boy?” Another loud meow escaped him, and Bee chuckled. She heard Morgan set his keys down. “We missed you too Brucey!”

Morgan bent down slightly to kiss Bruce’s head, and Bruce raised his own head to smell Morgan and boop him with his cold wet nose. “I think Brucey should get a treat for not tearing apart a curtain while he was alone.”

Bee chuckled. “That’s a good idea. I’ll grab one for him.”

“I’ll be in the bathroom.”

As Morgan made his way to their ensuite, Bee quickly gave Bruce a treat before retreating back into their bedroom. She stood in front of their armoire, looking at herself in the mirror. Her hair was still perfectly curled, thankfully. And her body was still flushed. She had the liquid confidence of the wine still coursing through her, and she knew she needed to act on it.

“Mo, baby?” she called out as she heard the water from the faucet stop. “Can you come help me with my dress?”

There was silence from the bathroom before she heard the door open. She was taking off her earrings, watching him through the mirror as he walked over to her slowly, eyeing her up and down. “Your dress?” his voice was low.

“Do you think you can help me take it off?” she asked.

She watched as Morgan stopped all movements momentarily before understanding what she was implying. “I can do that.”

“Okay,” she smiled at him through her reflection in the mirror. “Go sit on the bed.”

He did as he was told, sitting at the foot of the bed, his white shirt and suit pants still worn tight on his body. She took her time making her way over to him, eventually standing right in front of him, between his legs, as she looked down on him. “Did you have fun today?” she asked, resting her hands on his shoulders.

“Of course I did,” he said, his voice low as he felt her begin to massage his neck and shoulders. “Did _you_?”

She nodded her head. “I can’t believe I got to meet Masai.”

He smiled. “I can’t believe he gave us a ball.”

“Maybe I’ll write him another thank you note.”

Morgan giggled slightly, running his hands along the backs of her legs as she continued to massage his shoulders. “You’re so _good_, Bumblebee,” he whispered, putting his hands over hers. “I’m the luckiest guy in the world to have landed you, you know that?”

Bee smiled at him. The warmth of his hands overs hers was so comforting. “You wanna unzip me?”

Morgan nodded his head. Bee turned around so her back was towards him, and she felt the fabric of her dress shift as he undid the top button and zipped all the way down. He made sure to be gentle. To take his time. When she turned back around to face him, he peeled it off her. She was wearing a skin tight black turtleneck underneath – the next thing he had to deal with – but as he pushed the fabric past her hips and it fell to the floor, it revealed a lingerie set and garter holding up her pantyhose.

There was a sharp intake of breath. “You had this on the entire time?” he asked, his voice low.

“Mhm,” she nodded her head, the smallest chuckle escaping her.

“The entire day?”

“It’s not like there was any opportunity to change.”

Morgan bit his lip, taking in the black lace panties and pantyhose before him. “_Jesus_, Briony.”

“You like?”

He looked up at her, playfully rolling his eyes at her question. “_Come on_.” His hands wandered around her hips and the lace covering them. His fingers hooked into the hemline momentarily, feeling her skin there, before unhooking and continuing their wanders. “I am _so_. _Fucking_. _Lucky_,” he mumbled to himself, feeling the curve of her ass. “Can I take off your sweater?”

“Of course.”

Again, he took his time. His hands traveled from her hips to her stomach as he leaned forward and began kissing her there, dragging his tongue along her skin as he pushed the fabric up and over her breasts. It wasn’t until the sweater was tugged off, leaving her curled hair a bit dishevelled, that Morgan took in the lace push-up bra – obviously matching – that she was wearing. “Jesus fucking _Christ_ Briony.”

She bit her bottom lip. He was already going to go crazy. “Relax, baby.”

“How can I?”

“Shhhh…” she put her finger over his lips. “_Relax_. Let me take care of you.”

“Let me take care of _you_,” he grabbed at her ass.

“You liked what I did in Kelowna, right?” Bee asked, her voice holding the slightest amount of nervousness. The Adam’s apple in Morgan’s throat bobbed as he nodded his head. “Let’s change the rules a bit.”

“How so?”

“Touch me this time.”

Morgan’s heart stopped beating. A low, hearty chuckle escaped from him as Bee turned away from him. “Oooh, Briony…”

Bee began to sway her hips back and forth slowly, not wanting to wait any longer. She placed her hands on his thighs, steadying herself, before moving forward to shove her breasts in his face. Almost immediately, he licked and bit the skin above her breasts before she quickly pulled away. Turning around, she swayed again, feeling Morgan’s hands squeezing her ass. She looked over her shoulder at him, winking. “Better this time now that you can touch me?”

Morgan didn’t answer; he was like a man transfixed. As Bee continued to dance, she heard him unbuckle his belt. She flipped her hair over her shoulder again to look at him. He was pushing his suit pants down hastily, trying to free his cock from his underwear. “Need some help?”

“Keep dancing,” he ordered.

A shiver ran up Bee’s spine. She did as she was told, moving her body sensually, gathering her hair in her hands or flipping it over her shoulder. When she finally turned around again, she saw Morgan with his cock in his hands, his pants down around his ankles. She couldn’t help but smile. “Couldn’t wait, could you?”

“Not when you’re dancing like that,” he admitted. “You have no idea what you do to me, Briony.”

Eyeing his hardening cock in his hands, Bee smirked. “Oh, I think I do.”

“Be a good girl and keep dancing,” he said, using his free hand to grab at her hip.

As she continued to dance, they couldn’t keep their eyes off each other. Eventually, she leaned forward to kiss him, and began to unbutton his dress shirt. She pushed it off his shoulders, but instead of throwing it across the room, she kept it in her hands.

“What’re you--”

“It’s not your jersey, but I guess it’ll do,” she said as she draped it over herself, slipping her arms through the sleeves to wear it. She ran her fingers through her hair before posing for him playfully.

Morgan chuckled lowly, throwing his head back as he continued to stroke himself. “You’re a little minx, you know that? A fucking _tease_.”

“You fucking _love_ it though,” she said with a devilish smirk. She replaced his hand with hers on his cock and knelt in between his legs, using her free hand to scratch down his thigh. “Now let me be a good girl and suck your cock.”

“With pleasure,” he wiggled his eyebrows.

She gave him one last look before taking him in her mouth, twirling her tongue around the tip as she heard him grunt. She bobbed her head up and down, taking him deeper into her throat each time. Morgan brought his hand towards her and gathered her hair, tugging on it slightly so he could get a better look. “You look so sexy with my shirt on you,” he mumbled, inhaling sharply as she took him deep. “And with my cock in your mouth.”

“Does it look good with the black lingerie?” she asked quickly.

“Fuck yes.”

“Good. Because this is all for you,” she said, licking the underside of his cock before kissing the head playfully. “All for you. _Always_.”

Morgan pushed her head down so she could take more of him down her throat. She moaned in response, looking up at him with her beady eyes, causing him to throw his head back and close his eyes so he wouldn’t cum in her mouth right then and there. As she sucked him off, his breathing got heavier, his chest heaving more and more. Eventually, he felt his head hit the back of her throat, and his hips bucked at the sensation. “Briony…”

“Cum down my throat, baby.”

“N-No--”

“_Please_ Mr. Rielly, I want to taste you _so bad_,” she begged.

“Briony--”

“I wanna be your good girl Mr. Rielly. Please, please, _please_,” she begged before taking him deep into her throat again.

Morgan huffed, unable to say anything else, too hot and bothered to deny her what she wanted to do. The second she gagged slightly and he felt his cock hit the back of her throat, he was gone. The noise that escaped him was guttural as he felt himself shoot his load down her throat. Bee sucked every last drop from him greedily, keeping her eyes on him as he locked eyes with her. He felt like the luckiest guy alive – he _knew_ he was the luckiest guy alive.

“C’mere,” Morgan huffed, pulling her up by her arms so she was now sitting on his lap. They gave each other sloppy kisses before Morgan bit his way down to her neck and breasts. “You wanna be a good girl?”

“Yes.”

“I asked if you want to be a good girl,” he repeated.

“_Yes_,” she said louder. “Yes Mr. Rielly.”

“Then be a good girl and make yourself wet on my thigh,” he practically demanded, gripping the flesh on her thighs and ass.

Bee looked at him with wide eyes. She said nothing more – instead, she began grinding against his thigh, keeping eye contact with him as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. His hands stayed firmly gripped on her hips, and the feeling of her hot pussy rubbing against his thigh got Bee all hot and bothered. Her breathing became more erratic, and whimpers left her mouth as her body flushed with heat.

“I love you,” she mumbled between heavy breaths, her voice sweet but barely audible as she kept rocking back and forth.

“What’s that?”

“I love you, Morgan,” she said, only slightly louder.

Morgan smiled softly. It was an intimate moment that brought a warmth to him that he wasn’t expecting. “I love you too, baby,” he said, his voice equally as sweet as hers was.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” she continued.

“You’re my whole world,” he responded with the words he always followed with whenever she said that line. Kissing her passionately, he moved his hand to start rubbing at her clit.

A whimper left her as her lips left his. “_Fuck_,” she sighed out. “I’m so close, Mr. Rielly.”

“Make my thigh wet baby, come on. Be a good girl,” he encouraged her.

It wasn’t long before her body started shaking and she began screaming his name out. Morgan could feel her juices on his thigh, and at the sound of her screaming his name, he couldn’t take it easy anymore. Bee barely finished riding out her orgasm before he picked her up in his arms, kicking off his pants bunched at his feet.

“Mo – baby --” Bee tried to figure out what he was doing as he picked her up. “Morgan, what are you d--”

He practically threw her onto the bed. “Spread your legs for me,” he ordered, his white shirt still draped over her body.

Bee did as she was told. Morgan wasted no time diving between her legs and moved the lace material of her thong to the side to eat her out like he was a man starved and she was the last meal on Earth. Sucking at her clit, he brought his arms up to keep her hips down so she couldn’t squirm like she usually did – again, putting her pleasure in his complete control. As she had barely come down from her previous orgasm, it took no time at all for her to cum again, covering his face in her juices. He lapped up every last bit as she could barely squirm from the pressure he was exerting on her hips – she grabbed and tugged at his hair instead, needing to release some pressure elsewhere.

“Again,” Morgan mumbled against her lips.

“Mo--”

“_Again_.”

“Morgan, I c – I – oh _shit_,” she swore as she felt him push two fingers inside of her. “Mo-Morganmorganmorgan,” she cursed him.

“Be a good girl, Briony,” his tone was strict with her. “You got to taste me. I want to taste you again and again.”

“Mo--”

“Are you going to be my good girl?”

She huffed, her chest heaving. “Y-Yes,” she nodded her head, her voice soft. “Yes. I’ll be your good girl Mr. Rielly.”

Morgan continued lapping at her, curling his fingers inside her. With only one arm holding her down now, she could squirm a bit more easily, but it was still tough and her pleasure was still mostly in his control. Between his tongue and his fingers, Bee quickly came again…and again…and again…and—

She began to lose count. At times it felt like multiple; at times it felt like just long and continuous. Her throat was already dry from how much she had screamed Morgan’s name, huffing and puffing and trying to gain some semblance of sanity. “Mr. Rielly – Mr. Rielly please, I want…I want…”

“What do you want?”

“I want your cock inside me,” she breathed out.

“Do you?” he asked between licks, ignoring her request.

“Yes. Yes…_please_ Mr. Rielly. I want to feel you buried deep inside of me,” she was on the verge of begging – what she knew he wanted her to do. “I want you to fill me up with your big cock.”

Morgan practically manhandled her as he flipped her over on her hands and knees on the bed, spanking her ass and causing her to yelp out. It had been long enough – after eating her out – that he was able to get an erection again, so he grabbed his cock and teased her entrance momentarily before filling her up, causing her to cry out.

“_Fuuuuuuuuuck_ Mr. Rielly,” she breathed, looking over her shoulder.

“That feel good?”

“Your cock always feels good, Mr. Rielly.”

She felt him tug at her hair and pull her up to his chest. Almost immediately, his free arm snaked around her body, his fingers attaching themselves to her clit again. His other arm held her up and cupped her breast through the lace of her bra. “You like it when I fuck you from behind?” he asked, biting down on the skin of her neck.

“I love it,” she breathed out. “_Fuck_ Mr. Rielly, you fuck me so good.”

“Your pussy always feels so good for me,” he whispered in hear ear, pounding in and out of her. “Always such a good girl for me.”

“I always want to be your good girl Mr. Rielly,” Bee breathed out.

Bee felt the waves of pleasure wash over her again as Morgan pushed her head gently back down onto the mattress and continued to fuck her, his grunts and expletives and mumbles of her name adding fuel to the already over-stimulated experience she was having. She lost count at how many orgasms she’d gone through.

When she was least expecting it, Morgan pulled out. She felt an emptiness that she didn’t like. She wined at the loss and looked behind her. “What are y--”

Morgan manhandled her again, flipping her over so she was flat on her back, and used his hands to pry open her legs, moving in between them. She wrapped them tightly around his torso before he slipped into her again, her breasts almost spilling out of the lace bra. His dress shirt still adorned her body and made him crazy with desire. Before she could wrap her arms around his shoulders, he took one and pushed up the sleeve, finding the Cartier bracelet he’d given her. He placed a delicate kiss on the skin of her wrist right above where the bracelet was before putting it around his shoulder.

He leaned down and smothered her with kisses as he pumped in and out of her. As Bee’s whimpers and moans got louder, he looked her in the eye. “I love you Bumblebee,” he mumbled, using her nickname for the first time in this sort of setting. “I love you so much.”

Bee brought one hand to cup his face. “I love you too, baby.”

“I’m always gonna be yours, Bumblebee.”

“And I’m always gonna be yours.”

He made sure they were looking each other in the eye as he came inside of her, her eyes eventually closing from the pleasure of feeling his hot cum inside her walls. Slowly, he collapsed on top of her, trying to catch his breath as his body engulfed hers. With her legs still wrapped around him, he settled onto her.

She began running her fingers through the tufts of his hair at the nape of his neck. “I love you forever, Morgan,” she whispered in his ear.

*

Bee felt like she was James Bond as she manoeuvred through the hallways at Scotiabank Arena trying not to get caught in enemy territory. There was media and cameramen everywhere because it was the start of the season, the home oepneer, and although many didn’t know who she was, she _was_ already wearing her Rielly jersey. All it took was for one of them to snap a picture and she could see the blogs going crazy.

Not that it mattered. What mattered more was the person she was going to meet.

“Hey sweetcheeks,” Tyler’s familiar voice echoed down the hall as Bee saw him walking with outstretched arms. “Get over here.”

She practically skipped over to him, hugging him tightly in his workout clothes. His arms wrapped around her tightly as he picked her up off the floor. “I miss you,” she said as he set her down. The hallways must have felt so familiar to him; except now, he was in opposing territory. The visitors instead of the home team.

“I miss you too sweetcheeks,” he said, taking a look at her jersey. “How angry would Mo get if I gave you a Senators jersey with my name on it?”

Bee snorted. “It could go one of two ways. He could burn it or he could ask me never to wear it in front of him.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

Bee laughed as she shook her head. He always had a witty comment or joke up his sleeve – it’s what she loved most about him. “Have you settled yourself in Ottawa? Do you have a place?”

“I do. Near the Byward Market, actually. It’s a bit far from the arena but it’s good to separate the two,” he informed her.

“Is your fridge stocked?”

“Yes _mom_,” he rolled his eyes. “How’ve you been since your birthday?”

“I’ve been good. There was a big team dinner last night and--”

“No, Bee,” he interrupted her, looking her in the eye. “_How have you_ _been_ since your birthday?”

Bee took a deep breath. She knew what he was really asking. She should have been better prepared, because even though they spoke all the time over text, it was different than speaking to someone in person. “I’ve been good, Tyler. I mean it,” she said, grabbing his forearms to assure him. “It was all…_solved_. Without media fanfare, which was a miracle. Brendan and Kyle are wizards. It took a while for me to feel okay again, but I do now. I don’t feel so…I don’t know, _violated_ anymore.”

“I maintain what I said to you on the phone,” his tone was serious. “If I need to murder someone in cold blood, I will. They’ll never suspect it was me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she smiled. “You watch too much true crime stuff, Tyler.”

“I’ve moved on to podcasts now. All I have to do is listen.”

“I’m going to convince Morgan to go to Ottawa during the by-week. We have the same one,” she changed the subject to something lighter. “Would you be up for that? Or have you already booked flights back home to Edm--”

“I’ll set up the spare bedroom now,” he said, nodding his head excitedly. “I’ll go shopping for Egyptian cotton sheets. I know how picky Mo is. Little diva.”

She punched him in the arm. “You are honestly the worst.”

“Morgan loves me. I’ll have Trailer Park Boys on for him when you arrive.”

Bee hugged him again, burying her face in his neck. To say that it was going to be weird seeing him in a Senators jersey, on the opposing team’s bench tonight was an understatement. To her, he would always be a Maple Leaf. It may not be that way for everybody else, but for her, that was the case. “I’m going to miss having you around so much. You don’t even know,” she mumbled.

“I’ll always be here,” he said, squeezing her tighter. “Remember what I told you.”

“I won’t feel pain if I never truly lose anything,” she recited.

“Exactly. And you’ll never lose me.”

*

“You wanna go back to mommy, Jace?” Bee looked down at the little baby in her arms, sucking on his pacifier and looking up at her with his big eyes. She looked over to Aryne, who was ready for him. “It would be a bit awkward for me to be holding the baby, especially if they pan to you after the announcement.”

“Definitely,” Aryne nodded, grabbing Jace and holding him against her chest. “They’re going to release that video they filmed right after. Everybody’s gonna realize a three week old baby knew about the captaincy before any of the media did.”

“Let’s keep it that way,” Bee winked, Aryne winking back at her.

From beside her, Angie shuffled past Monique and Steph to take her seat in between Mason and Bee. “I didn’t miss anything, did I?” she asked. “The line for the washroom took _forever_.”

“You’re good. They’re literally just about to start,” Bee said.

As if on cue, the lights dimmed. Scotiabank Arena, packed to the brim with people, erupted in cheers and applause. The pre-game ceremony began, with the arena MC narrating everything. The entire team came out one by one as their names were called out. People cheered for their favourites and clapped for everyone. Once the regular players were completed, Bee knew it was time to announce the leadership core.

She looked over to Aryne. “Are you ready?”

“As ready as I can be,” she said, rocking Jace back and forth. “This is the moment he’s been waiting his entire life for.”

“And now, your captains!” the arena MC belted out. “Alternate captain, from Thornhill, Ontario…number sixteen, Mitch Marner!”

Bee could hear Steph scream a few people down, and looked over to her with a giant smile on her face. Steph was filming it on her phone, jumping around giddily as his name was called. Bee clapped and wooed, knowing that – despite an eventful summer of contract negotiations – Mitch had been dreaming about this his whole life too. The crowd cheered loudly for him, thankful that the hometown boy stayed.

“Alternate captain, from Scottsdale, Arizona…number thirty-four, Aaaauuuustoooon Maaaatthews!”

Bee cheered as Auston skated onto the ice, raising his stick in appreciation of the fans cheering for him. She knew it had been a tough couple of weeks for him – and Lord knows she gave him a piece of her mind too – but she was truly proud of him and what he had accomplished. The most skilled player on the team, he was the central franchise player.

Her heart began to beat quicker knowing what was coming next. She was trying not to get too emotional, especially because he had been an alternate captain for years now, but she couldn’t help it. She was so proud of Morgan – _her_ Morgan – and she couldn’t hold back. She felt a stray tear fall down her cheek but wiped it away quickly.

“Alternate captain, from Vancouver, British Columbia…number forty-four, Moooooooorgaaaaan Rielly!”

Bee screamed at the top of her lungs. The arena cheered and applauded too, thankful that somebody like Morgan – one of their longest tenured players now – was named to this position. A lot of people would have preferred him as captain – she knew that – but that didn’t matter to her. What mattered was that he was recognized for his commitment to the team, for his leadership role during the tough years until now, for the responsibility he took for the defensive capabilities of the team. He was happy with the alternate captain title. He wore it with honour. He wore it with pride. He wore it with courage. He wore it knowing that this team was a part of his heart a soul. He wore it knowing that he was the foundation upon which everything else was built. In some ways, in being the foundation, he was the most important part.

She was so proud of him. And loved him so much.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the twenty-fifth captain in franchise history. From Oakville, Ontario…number ninety-one, Jooooohn Taaavares!”

Bee screamed at the top of her lungs again, as did Aryne, and the entire arena erupted in the loudest cheers of the night. John Tavares. 25th captain of the Toronto Maple Leafs. The hometown boy who came home. In every account except for biological, her big brother.

There was nothing better.

Bee thought about the last year. She thought about how she met Morgan under mysterious circumstances. She thought about how they took things slow at first, not wanting to put a label on it, because she put her schooling first and Morgan respected that. She thought about cooking Thanksgiving dinner and Morgan telling her he couldn’t wait anymore and her agreeing. She thought about the break-in. About the girls rallying around her and helping her recoup everything and more. She thought about Naz and Ashley letting her stay in their empty apartment. Christmas. Bumblebee. Auston making out with her cupcakes. She thought about landing her job at Scotiabank. She thought about going to Vancouver for the first time, whale-watching and telling Morgan she loved him. She thought about her mom dying; about the sense of relief that washed over her more than guilt or grief. She thought about Valentines Day and Morgan’s birthday and giving her utmost trust to him in their most intimate of moments. The slur. Moving in with Morgan. Game seven. Holding Morgan as he cried. She thought about the cottage, about graduation, about going to Vancouver for a second time and feeling at home. She thought about Naz being traded, about holding baby Naylah in her arms at the hospital. She thought about Tyler, about Jake, about Cassie. She thought about visiting Aryne and holding baby Jace.

And that was all just the beginning.

As she looked out onto the ice at Morgan, standing solemnly for O Canada, she couldn’t help but feel excitement for what was to come. She knew that whatever that was, they’d get through it together. The highs and the lows. The mountains and the valleys. She wouldn’t have to experience anything alone anymore. She wouldn’t have to go through life wondering if she’d be alone forever. Instead, it was she and Morgan. Against the world.

_Together_.

She was ready.


	42. Epilogue 1: Never Be Alone

**June 2022**

“Tia Bee, youw haiw so soft,” two-and-a-half year old Jace Tavares grabbed a chunk of Bee’s hair as she balanced him on her hip. His toothy grin was wide, his big brown eyes smiling as he let go on the chunk but began running his fingers through her hair instead. “So soft.”

“Thank you, Jace,” Bee giggled. Jace touched her hair whenever Bee picked him up. From beside her, Aryne laughed, her pregnant belly, swollen with her and John’s second child, popping through her blazer. “Do you want a cookie from the nice man?”

“Yes pwease!”

“What kind?”

“Chocowate chip!”

“_Heeeeyyyyy_, that’s _my_ favourite cookie!” Angie protested playfully as the barista behind the counter grabbed a chocolate chip cookie with the tongs he was holding. “Can I take a biiiig bite out of your cookie?”

“Noooo!” Jace giggled. “You buy own cookie!”

The girls laughed as Aryne paid for everybody’s coffees and snacks, pushing her stroller to the counter where they chatted and awaited their drinks. Jace was already munching on his cookie in Bee’s arms, Aryne sipping on her green tea while Bee and Angie awaited their iced coffees. Jace eventually wiggled in Bee’s arms and asked to be put back in his stroller, and she happily obliged, strapping him in.

As the ladies made their way back to Aryne’s Range Rover in the underground parking of Yorkdale, loading all their bags into the trunk, Angie slipped into the backseat with Jace while Bee took the passenger’s seat. “I should actually go to my parents’ house – it’s not that far and I’m due for a visit” Angie commented, snaking the seatbelt across her body. The car light flashed on the ring on her left hand – the ring that Mason gave her one year ago as they exchanged vows on a beach in Cuba in front of close friends and family. It was the only destination wedding Bee had been to, but it was definitely the best. Angie looked beautiful, Mason looked handsome, and she spent a week on a beach with them, the Favaros, and Morgan. She couldn’t have asked for anything better.

“It’s closer – I’m sure Aryne won’t mind,” Bee said as Aryne slipped into the front seat.

“Where to? Your Uber driver needs to know,” Aryne smiled at Angie through the rear-view mirror.

“To Bathurst and Sheppard please, where Clarette Favaro is probably already knee deep in dirt planting vegetables.”

Aryne backed out of her spot, driving through the underground parking to get to the exit. Once they emerged into the sunlight, Angie’s phone rang from the backseat. “Hello?...Morgan?” Angie asked, her brows furrowing. Bee whipped her head around at the mention of his name. “Morgan, is everything okay?...Well, we were just in underground par – yeah of course she’s with me….Uh huh…Okay…Yeah. Yeah, we can bring her no problem…Is it urgent? Okay…text me the address…”

“What’s wrong?” Bee mouthed to Angie, but she didn’t answer. Angie kept nodding her head. “Yeah. Yeah okay. We’ll bring her as soon as possible. We’ll be there soon. We’ll speed.”

It was Bee’s turn to furrow her brows as Angie hung up the phone. “What’s going on?”

“That was Morgan. He just needs to see you right now,” Angie said. “We’ll bring you to him.”

“Where is he?”

“He texted me the address,” she said, leaning forward. She showed her phone screen to Aryne, away from Bee’s eye. “Do you know where this is? Can you go here?”

Aryne took a quick glance at the screen. “Absolutely. I know exactly where that is. I’ll get us there in no time.”

*

Bee was nervous the entire time that Aryne drove them to wherever Morgan was. Bee didn’t even pay attention to her surroundings and where they were going – she was too busy furiously texting Morgan on her phone – no response from him, naturally – and asking Angie a bunch of questions. What did he sound like? Was everything alright? Did he sound hurt? Was he crying? Was he angry? Did he seem pissed off? Had something happened with the Leafs and they were the last to know about it?

When Aryne finally arrived at the destination, driving up to the curb and parking, Bee practically tuck-and-rolled out of the car. “Morgan!” she called out, running up to him as he was waiting for her on the front porch of a house. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?” she asked hurriedly.

“Damn, Aryne got you here quick,” he commented, a smirk on his face. “Tell her she’s gotta slow down. Precious cargo and all that.”

The fact that he was so blasé confused her. Angie’s tone seemed a little bit frantic, and although she answered all of Bee’s questions to the best of her abilities, her answers didn’t really, well…_answer_ anything. Bee was determined to get to the bottom of it. “Are you hurt?” she asked.

“No, no,” he shook his head. “I just gotta show you something.”

With the realization that he wasn’t hurt or seemingly in danger, she was able to calm down. She finally noticed his clothes – a plain old t-shirt, old jeans, and runners. Behind him, a doorway surrounded by white trimming and red brick. Finally, she _really_ took in that they were standing on the porch of a house. “Where…whose house is this?”

“Come in. Come inside,” he said, ignoring her question, his smirk still adorning his face. “Here,” he handed her a hard hat. He had another in his hand, presumably for him, that she hadn’t noticed until now. “You’re gonna need this.”

“A hardhat? Why?”

“You’ll see.”

Bee looked back to see Aryne’s Range Rover already gone. Instead, she was greeted with the streetscape – beautiful, old, lush trees; large, stately Tudor and Edwardian style manor homes, kept in pristine condition from when they were first built, and perfectly manicured lawns. Quiet, quiet streets.

“Welcome to 220 Dunvegan Road,” Morgan announced, stretching out his arms to present the house before putting on his hard hat and opening the door.

Bee stepped foot inside the house behind Morgan, looking around at what greeted her – pretty much nothing. When she finally closed the front door behind her, she noticed a majority of the house was stripped down to the studs. There were still some beams here and there, and the stained-glass windows were still perfectly intact. “Where…where even are we?” she asked, still confused, trying to take everything in.

“I just said. 220 Dunvegan Road,” he repeated. “This house is on one of Forest Hill’s most coveted streets. It has over 5000 square feet of living space.”

“You sound like a real estate agent,” she commented.

“Maybe I am,” he winked as he grabbed her hand. “Come with me. Let me show you.”

Morgan took her upstairs first, up the grand staircase that dominated the foyer – and the upstairs was ripped to the studs even more than the downstairs. There were barely any walls – or wood for walls – anymore. “So this is where the bedrooms would go…obviously,” he said as he led her through the ‘rooms’. “The master would be towards the back, overlooking the backyard…where those windows are there,” he pointed. “You’d have enough space to have a massive bedroom, but then a spa-like master ensuite with a shower _and_ a tub over here,” he began framing with his hands, “and even a huge walk in closet right over here,” he switched sides and began framing with his hands again. “His and hers, or together – doesn’t matter. Both are possible because there’s so much space.”

“Okay…” Bee said, trying to picture everything he was saying.

“Then, of course, the other bedrooms. Three, at least. Each of them would have their own ensuite bathrooms too…one here,” he pointed, bringing her along down the hallway with him, “another here,” he moved further down the hallway, and around the bend, “and then the last one here,” he moved on once more until he was finished. “And then, actually – geeze, I almost forgot – right over here could be a second floor laundry room. Or else it could go on the main floor, basement – wherever – but second floor laundry is so convenient, because nobody would have to haul baskets up and down stairs.”

He was right. Lugging baskets of towels or clothes upstairs could take a lot out of a person. A second-floor laundry room _would_ be very convenient. Bee nodded her head slightly, again trying to picture everything he was saying – how the layout would be in the house. “The bedrooms would be huge,” she commented softly.

“They would be. Cozy, but big. They’ve all still got big windows but there’d be enough space,” he said, grabbing her hand again. “What do you think?”

“It’s a bit…it’s a bit hard to visualize for me, but I can see it,” she admitted, looking around once more to where he had pointed out bedrooms and bathrooms and laundry rooms. “Everything would be so…I don’t know the right real estate term. Graciously proportioned?” she giggled slightly.

“Something like that,” he smiled, leading her down the hall. “Come on, let’s go downstairs.”

As they made their way back down the grand staircase, Morgan walked in front of Bee and held her hand to make sure she didn’t fall or lose her balance. She jumped down the last step playfully, causing her hardhat to cover her eyes. Morgan shook his head at her as he readjusted it so she could see again. “You’re gonna need your eyes for this Bumblebee.”

“Will I?”

“Come on, this side first,” he grabbed her hand again and led her back to the front of the house. “This is like…the living room, dining room combination,” Morgan began explaining again. “The idea is that it’s open in case you need to extend the dining section, but still sort of sectioned off that the rooms are separate,” he walked into the room, again holding out his arms to show the vastness of empty space. “Look at these stained-glass windows – it’d be dumb to take them out. And look,” he turned around, tapping the old mantle, “the original, wood-burning fireplace from when this place was originally built in the 1920s.”

“The 1920s? My God,” Bee mumbled, unable to keep the smile off her face. “I’ve always loved the wood-burning fireplace Rocco and Clarette have.”

“I know,” Morgan smirked, “that’s why it’s good that this place has _two_. One here, and one in the family room.”

The smile couldn’t leave Bee’s face. With every passing second, she found it easier to visualize what the rooms would look like once walls and detailing were up, and what it could be furnished with. “That mantle could be custom-built,” she commented. “With like…what do they call them? Built ins?”

“Mhm. Built-ins,” he smirked, nodding his head. “Come with me,” he grabbed onto her hand again as they exited the room back into the foyer. “So over there – _big_ big entrance closet, and then over here, right beside it, is French doors leading to the library,” he walked through the open archway into the room.

“A _library_?” Bee questioned. “You mean this was a house with a library?”

“It _could be_ a library,” he clarified, turning around. “Giant window looking out into the street over there, and on this wall, and this wall, and _this_ wall,” he pointed to the remaining three walls, “floor to ceiling bookcases. They can be oak, white – whatever colour. A big desk right here, in the centre, or looking over the window…”

Bee began to visualize once again. She nodded her head. “All that natural light coming in would be beautiful. It would be a good reading space, I think.”

“Wouldn’t it? And then here,” he stepped outside, having her follow him, “the main floor powder room, or laundry room, or power-laundry combination – whatever…but finally, _finally_…”

He grabbed her hand one last time and led her to the back of the house. The original walls had already been torn out – she figured as much – and what was left was a giant, open space. _Giant_. She was pretty sure this section of the house alone was bigger than their apartment. “This is the kitchen – family room combination. Family room here – another wood burning fireplace. There can be built-in bookshelves surrounding it. Big TV up top. Surround sound, naturally,” he winked, “with French doors out onto the deck over there,” he began walked backwards to the other section of the massive room. “And then…last but not least…the kitchen,” he motioned. “Everyday informal eating area here,” he motioned his hands around where they were standing, “and then here, a massive island – _massive_ – and bar seating. Quartz counters. Six burner stove, fridge – the _works_. A chef’s kitchen, completely. Big window above the sink to look out onto the backyard. Hardwood floors. Undermount sink. The _works_.”

Bee could picture everything. The white cabinets. The backsplash. The quartz counters. The stainless steel appliances. Everything. She could picture everything.

“But there could be changes, Bumblebee. If you wanted more windows, we could put more windows in the bedrooms. Bigger ones. Or if you wanted one of those accordion doors in the kitchen leading out to the deck, that can happen. That can be put in,” Morgan said.

Bee noticed his word choice and furrowed her brows. It was going to be a beautiful house one day, surely, but…“Why do you say ‘if _you_ wanted’?” she asked. “What do I have to do with any of this?”

Morgan paused. He knew she was overwhelmed but he was a bit shocked she didn’t get it by now. He couldn’t help but chuckle slightly. “This is our house, Briony,” he said.

The words were like a foreign language to her. She had to digest each word individually before she could move forward. “Th…This…this is our _house_?”

Morgan nodded his head. “This is our house. This is where we’re going to _build_ our house. This is where…this is where you’re going to get your dream kitchen, right here. Right where we’re standing,” he said. “This is where you’re going to get your library for all your books. This is…this is where we’re going to live, Bumblebee.”

As she listened to Morgan’s words, Bee’s chest began to heave slightly. This was going to be their house. Their _home_. This is where they would live together. Cook together. Sleep together. Read together. Entertain together. Hang pictures on the walls together. Bring in firewood from the garage together. Stub their toe on the couch together.

Raise a family together.

“I don’t…h…when…” Bee was speechless.

“I bought it…God, your graduation day,” Morgan revealed, knowing the question she was desperate to formulate. “Your graduation day when you made me bring your Chanel purse. I emptied out the stuff in it so you’d have room and I saw the feature sheet for this place and well…I went to visit it a few weeks later because I couldn’t get it out of my head. And I fell in love with it. I don’t know why you got that feature sheet – why you had it in your bag or whatever – but the second I stepped foot I the door I knew this was our house,” he told her. “I bought it right then and there. I knew there were so many things left for you to do in your life and your career so I rented it out for a bit, just sort of kept it, but now…now that I’ve signed a contract to stay, Bumblebee, and now that we know for sure, I just…this is our house. This is our _home_, Briony.”

Bee was stiff. Suddenly, she could see the fire and hear the crackle of the wood burning as she was draped in blankets during a cozy night in. She could hear the water running and the oven alarm going off as she baked in the kitchen. She could see herself furiously typing away in the office surrounded by her books. She could hear the pitter-patter of little feet upstairs on the hardwood floor. Tears began falling down her cheeks as she saw her future laid out for her in the studs of the house. She was overwhelmed with feelings trying to take everything in. “This…this is going to be our home?”

“Bumblebee?” Morgan asked from behind her.

She didn’t even realize she had turned around to have her back to him. When she spun around at the sound of his voice, she saw him down on one knee. Her breath hitched in her throat. “Morgan…”

“Bumblebee, you know how much I love you,” he began, holding the small box in his hand. “You’ve made me a better person and I can’t picture myself spending the rest of my life with anybody else. You’ve been with me through thick and thin. I’ve loved you for the past four years. I’ll love you forever. Briony McTavish, will you marry me?”

Bee was nodding her head before he even opened the ring box. It was the easiest decision she’d ever made in her life, but she somehow couldn’t find the words as the tears streamed down her face. Morgan smiled at her reaction. “Is that a yes?” he teased.

“The biggest yes I’ve ever given anything.”

When he finally opened the box, Bee audibly gasped at the sparkle and size of the ring presented to her. At first, she didn’t extend her hand so he could put it on. “_Morgan_…it’s…it’s _beautiful_.”

“Can I put it on you?”

Bee finally extended a shaky hand for him to slip the ring onto her finger. It was massive radiant cut set in a hidden halo with a thin, intricate infinity band. The entire thing was set in platinum and sparkled like nothing she had ever seen before. Morgan stood up before pushing it on gently. When he was done, Bee grabbed his face and brought it down to kiss him passionately. He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Don’t you want to take a look at it?”

“I wanna kiss you first,” she kissed him again. “I wanna…you could have gotten me a ring pop and I would have said yes.” When she finally did stop kissing him, she looked down to the sparkler on her hand. “_Oh my Lanta_, Morgan,” she whispered, holding it up to get an even better look at it.

“Did I do good?”

Bee gave him a look. “You did _great_, baby.”


	43. Epilogue 2: My End and My Beginning

**July 2022**

“I still can’t believe you’re engaaaaaaaaaaaaaged,” Angie wrapped her arms around Bee for what seemed like the umpteenth time that night as they stood out on the deck. Rocco and Clarette had thrown Morgan and Bee an engagement party at their house and had somehow invited the whole team and some of Bee’s work colleagues. Clarette was in heaven hosting for everyone. The team was in heaven gorging on the Italian food Rocco and Clarette catered in. Bee was sure Rocco had showed _someone_ his vegetable garden.

“Can you believe?” Bee mimicked Jonathan Van Ness dramatically. “It’s finally happening.”

“It’s happening when it’s _supposed_ to be happening,” Angie said. “You lived your life first. You accomplished your professional goals first. It was important for you to accomplish those things before marriage. You’re a fucking CFA, Bee. Morgan had better wife’d you up. Not like he can do any better.”

“_Hey!_ That’s my fiancé you’re talking about!” Bee giggled.

“I know. And I love him. But it’s true.”

Bee rolled her eyes playfully at Angie’s words. “He bought us a house in Forest Hill, Angie.”

“You’re going to live in Forest Hill, Bee,” Angie gritted her teeth into a facetious smile. “Mason and I will be there every weekend.”

“Obviously.”

“Stealing all your food.”

“Of course.”

“Swimming in your pool. If you guys build a pool.”

“Better start buying more bathing suits.”

“Our kids will be best friends just like we are.”

Bee smiled. “Naturally. Like there’s any other option.”

**December 2022**

“Is there a way I can keep all these flowers after the wedding? _Fuck_,” Angie asked as she flipped through Rachel Clingen’s lookbook and the sketches that had been prepared for Bee. Bee had gone to see her a few weeks ago with Aryne, who was adamant that Rachel to the floral décor for the wedding. She didn’t disappoint. “This is going to look _stunning_.”

“I know, right? I can’t believe how good she is.”

“She’s _great_. It’s literally everything you said you wanted and she somehow made it come to life. And in the Grand Banking Hall? All that beautiful old architecture and then _this_? Literally every magazine should be begging you to profile it because it’s gonna look beautiful.”

Bee couldn’t help but chuckle. She had a much better relationship with the media now than she did when she first started dating Morgan, and she was much more comfortable around photographers or the press – especially in terms of hers or the Lady Leafs charity work – but she was always, _always_ a bit weary. She wouldn’t want people she didn’t know at her wedding. A magazine had already approached her asking to profile the interiors of their house once it was completed, but she politely declined. Maybe she’d change her mind in the future, but she didn’t think so. “Rachel’s gonna put it up on her website. So is Mango – the photographers. I think that’s enough.”

“I think I’m gonna need a giant photo too to hang over my fireplace.”

“I think we should blow up this one instead,” Bee smiled, digging into her purse to retrieve the envelope she was planning to give to Angie this whole time.

Angie looked at her weirdly. She took the envelope from her, opening in slowly, only to reveal a photograph – perhaps the most important photograph: the first one they ever took together. It was in university, during a exam study session at E.J. Pratt Library. There was a stack of books beside both Bee and Angie. A girl they were friends with at the time had taken it, though they weren’t in touch now. “Oh my _God_,” Angie snorted as she inspected the photograph. “Look how awful my curls looked.”

“I still fell in love with you,” Bee winked.

Angie gave her another look. “So did Mason, surprisingly,” she quipped. “God, we were so young. We’re only eighteen here!”

“Remember how we stayed so late they kicked us out because they were closing?” Bee asked. Angie nodded her head. “Do you remember what you said to me after we packed up?”

Angie thought back. Bee watched as the gears in her head began to shift, and as the realization dawned on her, her brows furrowed. “I said _‘When I’m your maid of honour, I’m going to tell everyone the story of how I helped you pass this exam’_,” she said.

Bee smiled. “So are you ready to do that or what?”

Angie pursed her lips to keep from crying, but when she looked at Bee, Bee could see a tear in her eye. “_Obviously_.”

*

“Hi my beautiful Isabella! Hi! Hi!” Bee smiled wide as she saw Isabella chilling in her Bumbo on the counter. “Are you happy to see Tia Bee?”

“BAH!” Isabella Tavares babbled happily, smiling. “_Bah bah bah!_”

“Bah bah bah!” Bee mimicked. “How’s my darling princess?”

“Darling princess is fine now that she’s burped,” Aryne smiled as she finished folding a dishtowel and lay it back on the counter. “Jace! Come say hi to Tia Bee!”

Bee heard the quick flutter of his steps as he ran to her from the family room. “Hi Tia Bee!” he screamed loudly, crashing into her legs and giving her a hug. Bee picked him up and held him in her arms as she kissed him dramatically all over his face, causing him to giggle profusely.

“How’s my prince doing?”

“Good.”

“What are you playing?”

“I play with my Lego.”

“What are you building?”

“I build a car.”

“Can you finish building your car and then show me?”

“Okay!” he said, wigging out of her arms and running back to his place on the carpet in the family room.

Bee turned back to Aryne, who was watching the whole encounter unfold. “What’s that in your hand?” Aryne asked.

“Oh, I got your mail for you,” Bee said absent-mindedly, handing her the envelope. “Just one thing in there.”

“Oh, thanks,” Aryne said as she began to tear it open. Bee looked on as she did, a small smile on her face. Like clockwork, Aryne’s eyes furrowed as she saw what was in the envelope: a card that had the first picture taken of them together, from a game at Scotiabank Arena. “What’s this?”

“Will you open it?”

Aryne flipped the card open on command, reading the words that Bee wrote. The more she read, the more her eyes began to well up with tears. “You want me to be your bridesmaid?”

“Of course I do,” Bee said softly. “I can’t imagine you not being up there with me, Aryne.”

Aryne began crying. She outstretched her arms as she walked around the island to hug Bee, squeezing her tightly. “I love you so much.”

*

“Oh…_oh, Briony_,” Shirley gasped as Bee walked out in the last dress. It was the first one they had chosen, but the last one Bee was trying on. From beside Shirley, Clarette put her hands over her mouth. “Briony, I…I’m speechless.”

“It’s looks good?” she asked nervously, patting down the delicate lace.

“It’s stunning,” Shirley nodded. “It’s perfect, sweetheart.”

“It’s the one,” Clarette said. “It’s so beautiful, mignonette. The lace is exquisite. The…the…_everything_.”

Bee turned to Angie, only to see her eyes red with tears. “What do you think?”

Angie shook her head, unable to find the words. She continued to shake her head until she could. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” she said between sniffles. “Morgan’s gonna absolutely _die_.”

Bee turned around, looking at herself in the full-length mirror, most of the most important women in her life behind her. She saw the lace draped over her body and sprawling train behind her, delicate but elegant. The v-neck framed her chest and shoulders perfectly, the fabric draping over her hips. As she stared at herself, she pictured herself holding a bouquet. She pictured herself at the end of an aisle, a crowd of people standing in front of her. When the sales associate swooped in and placed a veil on her, the vision was complete. She pictured herself walking down the aisle. She pictured herself walking, making eye contact with the guests. She pictured Morgan at the top of the aisle staring back at her, smiling. She pictured Angie smiling. Aryne smiling.

“Is this the dress?” the sales associate asked.

Bee smiled. This is the dress.”

**February 2023**

“Hey Andy?”

“Yeah Bee?”

“Do you mind if I ask you something?”

“Of course. What is it?”

“Can…can you sit down?”

Andy stopped moving. He had been preparing a glass of water for himself, but he stopped as he looked at Bee and recognized how serious her tone was. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine, I just…I just want you to sit,” she repeated, going so far as to move the chair so he could follow her command.

He sat down slowly. “What’s going on?”

“Um. So listen,” she began nervously. “I know…you know…you know that I don’t have a dad – well I _have_ a dad, I just don’t _know_ my dad – and, well – I, uh, I – _God, _this isn’t coming out right at all,” she shook her head, her thoughts getting the best of her.

“Bee, calm down, it’s alright,” Andy said. “It’s just me.”

She nodded her head and took a deep breath. “You know how much I love you, and how much I appreciate you being there for me since the beginning of mine and Morgan’s relationship. And, well, I’m doing the father-daughter dance with Rocco during the reception, but I wanted you – I would love it if you could walk me down the aisle.”

“Oh, Bee…” Andy cooed, a giant smile overtaking his face. “_Of course_ I’ll walk you down the aisle.”

“Really?”

“Are you _kidding_? _Of course_,” he repeated, reaching out to hug her. “I have two sons, Bee. I never thought I’d be able to get the opportunity. And now you’re able to give it to me.”

**Saturday July 22 2023 **

[CLICK HERE TO SEE MORGAN AND BEE’S WEDDING](https://spine-buster.tumblr.com/post/189581604007/morgan-and-bees-wedding-the-day-in-visuals)

“Be careful!”

“How do I get this thing off?”

“It’s delicate!”

“I _know_! I can’t get the – do I do the buttons or the zipper first?!”

“There’s only _buttons_, Morgan!” Bee exclaimed, giggling.

“Then what the hell is this?! What is – _oh_,” he stopped dramatically. “Oh, I gotta – okay – I – here we go,” he muttered as he began to unbutton the dress as quickly as his big thumb and drunken mind would let him. He knew he shouldn’t have had that last round of shots with Jake. “Jesus, how many buttons are there on this thing?!”

“It’s gotta stay on, doesn’t it?”

“NO! It’s gotta COME OFF!” he exclaimed, causing Bee to burst out into laughter. “It’s my wedding night, damnit! I WANNA HAVE SEX WITH MY WIFE!”

“Is that what we’re gonna do? I thought we were just gonna put on our pyjamas,” Bee looked behind her, winking.

Morgan gave her a death stare. “Don’t even _joke_ about that, Bumblebee,” he finished unbuttoning her dress. “Now get out of this thing so I can fuck you, please.”

“You need to be patient,” she instructed in as stern a voice as she could muster. “This thing is thousands of dollars. I can’t just whip it off, step out of it, and leave it on the floor or chair.”

“You _can_, you just decide not to.”

“I _won’t_, because it cost almost ten thousand dollars and it’s the most sentimental piece of clothing I will ever have.”

Morgan grumbled as he collapsed on the bed, still in his shirt and pants. He began unbuttoning his shirt as he watched Bee slip out of the dress slowly, making sure she located its hanger on the curtain rod before she did so. At the sight of Bee standing with no bra and only white lace panties, Morgan could feel his cheeks flush. “White, Bumblebee?”

“Was I going to wear any other colour?”

“You’ve got a mouth on you tonight.”

“Guess I should put it to good use, huh?” she arched her brow.

Morgan’s eyebrows rose. “Mrs. Rielly…” he began, shaking his head. The feeling of calling her that would never get old, he thought quickly. “Now that you’ve pinned me down with marriage you think you can talk to me like that?”

“Oh, I’ll pin you down alright.”

Morgan stuffed his hand down his pants. To him, there was no point in waiting anymore. She was standing there looking like _that_ and he was too much of an impatient drunk to care. “Get over here, baby. Get over here _now_.”

“_Patience_.”

“I have no _patience_. _Get over here!”_

Bee took her time. She wanted to tease him; make him wait. She wanted him to groan in frustration and whine in anger. It was working. His look of frustration and overall unhappiness with how slow she was going was apparent on his face. When she finally climbed onto the bed, he picked himself up from his annoyance and practically lunged towards her, wrapping an arm around her body and pulling her down with him, causing her to yelp in laughter. He began placing light butterfly kisses on her exposed skin, smiling at every giggle that escaped her mouth.

“I’m never gonna get tired of saying that,” Morgan mumbled against her skin.

“What? _Get over here_?” she giggled out.

“Noooo,” he chastised. “Mrs. Rielly. You’re finally _Mrs. Rielly_.”

“Finally,” she smiled. “I can’t believe it either. This is the best day of my life.”

“This is the best day of _my_ life,” Morgan repeated. “Can’t believe I landed such a fox.”

“Can’t believe I landed such a hunk.”

Morgan smiled sheepishly as he finally kissed her on the lips, slow and sensual and all encompassing. “I love you so much, Briony Rielly.”

[CLICK HERE TO SEE MORGAN AND BEE'S HOUSES](https://spine-buster.tumblr.com/post/189581458457/morgan-and-bees-houses)


	44. Epilogue 3: My Eyes

_TW: mentions of miscarriage_

**July 20th, 2024**

Bee eyed herself up in the mirror, looking down at her just barely swollen belly. Maybe she was just seeing things. Maybe it wasn’t even swollen yet.

The cramping began at around six weeks. It was much less severe than the last two times, where she was constantly uncomfortable, sometimes to the point of barely being able to walk. Then came the nausea. Whoever had named it “morning sickness” must have thought it to be a sick joke, because it was more like “all-day sickness”. At least for her. Then, the absolute greatest part: the bloating. Whenever Bee ate, she felt bloated. She could eat plain lettuce and feel bloated.

These symptoms had happened before though. Twice. Which is why, when she began to experience them all over again, there was a jolt of excitement mixed with a pang of worry. The last two times began with doctor’s visits and blood tests. They were met with excited whispers, medical advice, and buying the first plush stuffed animal Bee saw in the kids section of Indigo: a little red fox. <https://dynamic.indigoimages.ca/gifts/670983100402_hi.jpg?width=800>

They ended in miscarriage. Both of them. The first, at eight weeks, the second, at ten weeks. Both because of chromosomal abnormalities – something common, apparently, and completely out of hers or Morgan’s control. _‘It happens to many couples’_ they were told in soothing voices. _‘It’s a lot more common than you think. There is nothing wrong with you. It happens sometimes, unfortunately.’_

But does it happen twice?

It was for this reason Bee didn’t want to think too far ahead; get her hopes up about something that could end in another devastating heartbreak. Her doctors told her not to worry, but she couldn’t help but start worrying since she missed her period. This was going to be her third pregnancy – which she knew of. If this ended in a miscarriage too, she and Morgan would have to start looking at…other options. Fertility treatments. IVF. Having sex in specific positions on specific days facing specific directions in tune with specific earthly energies. Hell, she’d even take voodoo at this point if it meant she could stay pregnant and give birth to a healthy baby.

Bee was approaching her twelfth week now, which was more or less considered the safe zone: the moment when most expectant mothers could be confident in the pregnancy carrying to term, and the moment where she and Morgan could start telling friends and family. She’d had doctor’s appointments up until the one today – two, actually, because she was a bit paranoid, both with her OB-GYN back in Toronto. But this one was the first one Morgan would be able to attend. Hopefully, he’d be able to hear a heartbeat. If there was still a heartbeat.

He had been so good to her throughout the complications – not that he would ever _not_ be, but there was an extra softness to him, an extra…humanity to him. He had cried with her, more than once. He had voiced his fears that maybe, somehow, it was his fault. He had soothed her, comforted her, was there for her during the physical pain of it all. He had held her tightly as they lay in bed together knowing that this time, it just wasn’t meant to be. But it would happen in the future. It would happen someday, and they’d both be so happy and the baby would be so loved.

_“I hope they get your blue eyes,”_ Bee would nestle her face into the crook of his neck as they lay together, bodies curled against one another in bed. _“They would be so lucky to get your eyes.”_

_“They can get my eyes but they need your looks,”_ he’d said back. _“We can’t have another one of me running around. I don’t know if the world will be able to handle it.”_

As Bee continued to look at herself in the floor length mirror in the bedroom of their house in Vancouver, she heard the door to the ensuite open, Morgan walking out with a towel tied around his waist. His hair was a wet mess, sticking up in every direction. The steam emanating from the bathroom slightly fogged up the floor-to-ceiling windows of their bedroom, overlooking the coastline of the Sunshine Coast. They had purchased the house during the wedding planning process, half-built and ready to customize. After some long-distance planning decisions, decorating and “project manager” Andy Rielly inspecting the job site everyday (since it was only a half-hour drive up the coast from their house, anyway), in a few short months it became their second home. Four bedrooms, just like their home in Toronto. Floor-to-ceiling windows in almost every room to be able to see the spectacular views. A dock with a boathouse. It was all so perfect. She constantly pinched herself.

“Are you feeling okay, Bumblebee?” Morgan asked. She hadn’t even noticed that he’d already put on his underwear and pants. She was that out of it, she guessed. Lost in her mind.

“I’m feeling fine,” she said, nodding her head slightly. “Nervous, but fine. Can you…can you see anything different?”

“Not really,” Morgan admitted softly. “But what I _see_ doesn’t matter. Does it _feel_ different for _you_?”

Bee nodded her head. “Yeah. Yeah it does.”

Bee watched in the mirror as he came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. He was still topless, but when she felt the warmth of his body against her bare back, she could have melted into him. “Whatever happens, it’s going to be okay,” he said cradling her small hands in his as they rested on her belly. He placed a tender kiss on her shoulder. “I love you, Bumblebee.”

*

“How are we feeling, Mrs. Rielly?” Dr. Denise smiled as she sat down on her chair, Bee’s file in her hand.

“Good…but anxious,” Bee admitted as she lay down, holding Morgan’s hand beside her. “It’s nice to see you again. I just…we just want to make sure everything is okay.”

“Well, I can see your test results from your last visit to your doctor in Toronto. They all came back completely fine – the urine test, pap smear, blood work – there are no complications whatsoever,” Dr. Denise said, looking over her paperwork that must have been sent to her.

“I’m…I’m more concerned about the health of the baby,” Bee said. She could feel Morgan squeeze her hand from where he was sitting on a chair at her side. He was keeping quiet, and Bee knew it was because he was a mix of nervous and scared. “We’ve suffered two miscarriages already. They were in quick succession last year. They were chromosomal, so we know there was nothing we could have done to stop that, but we just want…we just want to make sure the baby is healthy and developing.”

“I remember being informed, Mrs. Rielly,” Dr. Denise said cautiously. “I read on your records that your doctor sends me from Toronto. We will definitely find a heartbeat for you to hear today, okay? Your last appointment in Toronto showed the baby was developing regularly. There were no complications like there were in your earlier two pregnancies at this stage – the cramping especially. There should be no need to worry. When I measure the baby and its heartbeat we’ll get a better picture.”

Bee nodded her head, and Dr. Denise began to prepare the equipment for the sonogram. “This will be a bit cold, Mrs. Rielly.”

“I remember.”

She squirted the gel on Bee’s stomach, below her belly button, and pressed the wand onto Bee’s skin. This was nothing new to Morgan, who had gone to Bee’s previous appointments with her the last two times, but he still watched intently. When the outline of the baby appeared on the sonogram, Morgan could immediately tell it was more developed than the last two he’d seen. It was bigger; a more prominent shape than he’d seen before. The smile on his face was automatic as he saw it. That was a baby. _His_ baby.

“Alright Mrs. Rielly, if you can try to stay still for me as much as possible, we’ll be able to hear and get an accurate reading of the heartbeat,” Dr. Denise said as she touched a few buttons on the monitor.

This was the point when Bee became absolutely petrified. The last two times it had come to this point, there was nothing. No heartbeat. Just silence. Silence, and then the sound of sniffles and tears, of ripping tissues out of a box, of whimpers to questions and options and information about what would happen next. This was the part she was most scared of, because if there wasn’t a heartbeat _again_, she’d be devastated – not that she wasn’t devastated the previous two times. But this time would hurt so much more. The third.

Morgan held his breath. He’d been holding it since he walked into the doctor’s office. The only thing he wanted to hear – more than the roaring of a crowd at Scotiabank Arena, more than anything in this world – was his baby’s heartbeat. A baby he helped create. That luxury was stolen from him twice before, and he didn’t want it to be taken away from him again. He knew how eager Bee was to become a mother; he knew how much he wanted to become a father. It had to work out. It _had_ to. There was no other option.

Dr. Denise moved the wand slightly against Bee’s skin. Some more tapping of monitor buttons. Silence. Moving of the wand again. More tapping of buttons.

And then -----

THUMPthump—THUMPthump—THUMPthump—THUMPthump—THUMPthump—

A heartbeat.

Their baby’s heartbeat.

Morgan tried to keep his cool but upon hearing the loud thumps, he let out a sob and tears began streaming down his face. He tried to hold them back; he brought his hand up to his face to try and hide it, he tried to sniff the tears away, but the attempt was futile. He was an absolute mess. There was the baby – _their_ baby – right there on the screen, with a heartbeat. A strong, steady heartbeat. It was magic. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“There we are!” Dr. Denise smiled. “Baby’s heartbeat is fantastic! Nice and strong.”

“They…they’re okay?” Bee couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Tears were streaming down her face too as she squeezed Morgan’s hand so tightly she thought the blood might stop circulating.

“Yes Mrs. Rielly. Everything is okay. Baby Rielly is developing well, the size is exactly what it should be at 12 weeks, and the rate of the heartbeat shows us it’s a very healthy baby,” she confirmed. “You can start letting friends and family know, Mrs. Rielly. I’m sure they’ll be just as excited as you are.”

“Oh my God,” Bee began to cry. “Oh my God. We finally…finally…”

*

“Did you guys have a good trip to the park?” Shirley asked as she set the salad bowl down on the table. Everybody had finished their lunch and was just relaxing on the deck, taking in the beautiful British Columbia sun. Andy finished pouring the last of the wine in his glass.

“It was beautiful,” Morgan said, eyeing Bee. Bee gave him a slight nod. “We actually got you guys a few things. Let me go get them,” he said, leaving the table quickly.

“Got us some things? Why? Morgan, we live here,” Andy called out to him as he disappeared inside the house. Andy focused his attention on Bee. “What in the world?”

“Trust us. It just screamed you guys,” she smiled.

Morgan came back out after a few moments, holding the gifts they had purchased in his hands. He laid them in front of his parents as they looked on, confused. “Come on. Open them.”

They did as they were told, revealing some very nice matching picture frames. “These are very nice, Morgan, but I know for a fact that you didn’t get them at some rinky-dinky gift shop in Stanley Park,” Shirley eyed her son.

“You’re right, you’re right,” he shrugged his shoulders, pretending like they were calling his bluff.

“At least they’re empty though, right?” Bee quipped.

“Well, we’ll have to fill them with something,” Shirley said, looking over at her husband. “What do you think? Photos from when we did that Alaskan cruise?”

“You might want to wait,” Morgan smiled. “We have something else coming. But it’s not going to be here until February.”

There was a dramatic pause. Andy and Shirley looked at their son, their faces blank for a few moments, unsure of what Morgan meant. Did he order something? Something was coming? But then Shirley looked at Bee. She saw the smile on Bee’s face. She saw the light in her eyes and the fact that Bee looked like she was ready to burst, and she knew. She knew right then and there.

So Shirley screamed.

She dropped the frame and she screamed at the top of her lungs. And when she started screaming, Andy looked scared. He looked scared but then he thought about why Shirley was screaming, and he looked over at Bee’s smile, wide as ever, and he too came to the realization. “Are you pregnant?” he asked, barely audible under Shirley’s screams.

Bee nodded her head. “I just hit twelve weeks.”

“Oh my God…_oh my God!_” he exclaimed as Shirley shoved herself out of her seat to hug her. “I’m gonna be a grandpa! We – Shirley, we’re gonna be grandparents!”

Shirley was crying at this point as she clung onto Bee for dear life. “Oooooooh, I can’t believe it! I can’t believe it!” she kept repeating. “My baby is having a baby! I’m gonna be a grandma!”

*

**August 1st, 2024**

Back in Toronto, Bee waited impatiently for Angie’s arrival at Oretta Restaurant. The best friends decided to meet up now that they were both in town – with Angie being in Kingston with Mason’s family, and Bee being in Vancouver, they hadn’t seen each other for _weeks_. She scrolled through her phone after the waitress brought over some lemon water, texting back and forth with Morgan for a while until she finally saw Angie make her way through the door, her flowing dress blowing in every direction as the heavy glass door closed behind her. The hostess brought her directly to Bee, who stood up to hug her.

“Sorry I’m late – parking was a nightmare, as you can imagine,” she said as she set her purse down. “You haven’t ordered or anything, have you?”

“No no, just the water,” Bee waved her off, handing her a menu as she sat down. “I am starving though, so choose quick.”

Angie took a quick glance at the menu, deciding quickly on what she wanted before setting down the regular menu and picking up the drink menu. “Do you, uh, want to get some mimosas or something? I know how much you love your mimosas at brunch,” Angie commented.

Bee smiled. This was not the way she was planning for it to go – she was just planning to slide the picture from the sonogram across the table, truthfully – but hell, this way was as good as any. “You can get one if you want, but um, I’m not drinking…” Bee said, giving her a peeping stare over her menu.

“I’m not drinking either,” Angie responded, trying to conceal a smirk.

It took a few moments for both women to realize the innuendos. Their faces dropped at the exact same time.

“Are you --”

“Are you--”

“_Pregnant_?!” they both exclaimed, pointing at each other, jaws on the floor.

“You’re – you’re pregnant?!” Bee had to clarify.

“_You’re _pregnant?!” Angie shrieked.

Both women began nodding their head at the same time, causing the other to shriek and scream in delight, grabbing each other’s hands from across the table until they both got up at the same time and squeezed each other tightly, still screaming.

“When are you due?!” Bee demanded.

“When are _you_ due?!” Angie demanded back.

“I’m early February,” Bee revealed. “When are you due?!”

“_I’m_ early February,” Angie revealed, her jaw dropping again.

Bee couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Are we – are we due at the same time?!”

Angie was smiling from ear to ear. “God, does this mean we fucked our husbands on the same night?”

Bee hit her in the arm. “_Angela_.”

“_Think about it_!”

“You’re gross,” Bee giggled as the women finally settling back into their seats. “Do you have a picture?”

“Sure do,” Angie began digging in her purse. “You too? Are you guys going to find out what you’re having?”

“No,” Bee shook her head. “We both want to keep it a surprise. You guys?”

“I want to find out. Mason wants it to be a surprise. _Of course_,” Angie rolled her eyes dramatically.

“Go figure.”

Angie finally slipped the sonogram photo across the table, as Bee did hers. They both oohed and awed at the little babies, commenting on size and heart rate and due date and sonogram experience and doctor and nurse practitioner and ultrasound technician and pre-natal vitamins and pre-natal yoga classes like they were already professionals. The waitress came and took their orders and both blurted out “_She’s pregnant!_” about each other.

After the waitress left, Angie looked at Bee. There was a moment of silence as the two women just smiled at each other, Angie reaching over the table to grab Bee’s hand. “I can’t…Bee…” she began, getting emotional at the drop of a dime. “I can’t believe we’re _pregnant_ at the same time.”

“I know. It’s crazy,” she commented.

“Our kids…our kids are gonna grow up together,” Angie continued, the emotion evident in her voice. “I can’t believe…I can’t…”

“I know, Angie. I know,” Bee squeezed her hand tightly. “It’s our wildest dream actually coming true. The magic isn’t lost on me. Trust me.”

*

**September 14th, 2024**

_So I can confirm Bee McTavish (Rielly’s wife) is pregnant. Saw her out today with a friend (that girl she’s always in pics with) and they both had bumps._

**Wow anon thanks for the info! How far along would you say she looked?**

** **

_Bee really trapped Mo with a baby!!!!!_

**Seriously, anon? They’re married. She didn’t “trap” him at all. Grow up.**

_The glow up of Bee McTavish has to be the best story ever. Girl grew up in public housing with an alcoholic mom and now she’s a multi-millionaire with two homes and a professional athlete husband. I want her life lol_

**You and me both!**

_Bee’s glow up may be goals but Morgan still cheats on her all the time. It’s pathetic what these girls will put up with for the sake of status._

**I highly doubt Morgan cheats on Bee, anon**

_Bee McTavish is 100% pregnant. But don’t let that fool you. She is still stuck up as ever. Selfish. Only cares about herself. She thinks just because she’s a Leafs WAG she’s hot shit. She’s always been pathetic and she always will be pathetic. Hilarious that now that she’s pregnant she’s gonna get even fatter. Wonder if she’ll lose the baby weight or just get lipo._

**Yeah anon, the woman who still has her own job and who made Toronto Life’s list of “50 Most Influential Torontonians” for her philanthropy and charity work is “selfish” and “pathetic”. **

*

**October 25th, 2024**

Bee’s feet were throbbing. It was partially her fault for having walked around Yorkdale for almost four hours, zipping through all the shops and loading up on more onesies, maternity clothes, plush animals, and spit up towels that she could shake a stick at, but she felt in the mood to _nest_ that day. All the baby books said it would happen, and for her, it wasn’t a gradual shift. It was immediate. It felt like the second she hit five months pregnant, she needed to nest.

She hauled in some of the large bags herself, staying in the doorway as she heard hammers hitting something and thumps coming from upstairs. She furrowed her brows. She knew it was an off-day for Morgan – she thought he’d be napping, or at the gym. “Morgan?” she called out.

“Up here!” she could faintly hear his voice.

She climbed up the stairs slowly, making her way towards the sounds she was hearing – the bedroom they had designated as the baby’s room, the nursery.

“Make sure the lines are straight!” she heard Morgan chastise.

“It’s fucking paint, dude! The wall is gonna be all _one_ colour when I’m done!” a voice she immediately recognized as Tyler’s spat back.

When she opened the door and saw what she did, her heart grew three sizes. There was Morgan, power drill and toolset spread all over the floor, building the baby’s crib that had just come in last week. On the opposite side of the room, Tyler stood in old clothes holding a paint roller, half the wall already painted in the neutral greenish-grey colour she and Morgan had agreed on.

Morgan looked up from his kneeling position where he was reading the instructions. “Hey beautiful,” he smiled warmly.

“Hi,” she said softly, a bit overwhelmed at the scene in front of her. She looked towards Tyler. “Hi.”

“You like the colour?” he asked.

She nodded. “I love it. I…” she couldn’t find the words. Tears almost automatically formed in her eyes. “I love you guys so much.”

*

**November 5th, 2024**

“Hey mamma,” Morgan cooed, climbing onto the bed with the jar of cocoa butter in his hands. “You ready for your daily rub?”

“It sounds really gross when you put it that way,” Bee giggled, lifting her pajama shirt to expose her belly. She was officially twenty-seven weeks along now, and everybody was commenting on how big she was. Instead of a small dainty bumps like Aryne, Ashley, and Lucy had years ago, and more recently for Alannah, Bee’s was much bigger and rounder. It protruded out dramatically. People were joking that she had twins in there, though she assured them there was only one. She wondered how much more she could grow. “Do you still think I’m cute now that I have my own orbit?”

“I always think you’re cute,” he said, unscrewing the cap. He bent down quickly and kissed the top of her belly. “You’re even cuter when you’re carrying our child.”

Bee smirked. “You’re saying that so I bake an extra batch of cookies today.”

“No I’m not!” he giggled. “I think you’re the cutest, sexiest, most beautiful woman in the world, Bumblebee. You know that.”

Morgan had taken to helping her rub cocoa butter all over her bump to help with the inevitable stretch marks. He loved it. Not just because it was an intimate moment between him and his wife that started and ended each day, but also because whenever he started rubbing, the baby began to kick. It was the best feeling in the world. The first time it happened, he began to tear up. He was so shocked that he poked and prodded her bump for ten minutes trying to feel the baby kick again.

He smothered the cream onto Bee’s swollen belly, rubbing it all over her gently as she helped. Like clockwork, the baby began to kick. He felt it at first – the light taps against his palm he began to recognize so well, but soon, he not only felt, but _saw_ the baby kick. Bee’s skin stretched out dramatically; it looked like the baby was kickboxing. “_Jesus_,” he gasped as he watched it happen again, stopping all his hand movements. “Did that hurt?”

“No, I’m good.”

“When did _that_ start happening?” he asked.

Bee shrugged her shoulders. “It’s been happening for a while.”

“My _God_,” he still couldn’t believe it. “I know the books said it’s totally normal to see that happen but it’s still weird.”

“I know,” she smiled. “If only you knew what it _felt_ like.” She watched as Morgan didn’t respond – instead, focusing on poking and prodding her belly to see her skin move and contort again from the baby’s punches or kicks. “Don’t encourage them. They might punch my bladder and I’ll pee all over this bed.”

Morgan snorted at her comment. “I just think it’s the coolest thing in the world. That’s our baby in there.”

“Our baby,” she smiled, resting her hand over his.

*

**December 21st, 2024**

“What about George?”

“We are _absolutely not_ naming our baby _George_.”

“What about Leo?”

“We can’t do Leo. Angie and Mason are doing Leon if it’s a boy and it’s too close. And I’m not going to be that bitch that takes a baby name from someone else.”

“What about Christopher?”

“No way.”

“Daniel?”

“No.”

“Okay…you know what? Let’s switch to girl names,” Morgan said as he clutched the book of baby names in his hand. He readjusted his position, making sure not to disturb Maggie, whose head was lying peacefully on Bee’s legs, and Bruce, who was curled at her feet sleeping. “What do you think of Ava?”

“Too overused.”

“Amelia?”

“No.”

“Aurora?”

“Borealis?” Bee quipped.

Morgan was exasperated. “_Briony_, you’re due in six weeks and we still haven’t figured out a name for the baby,” he began. “We need to get some ideas or else they won’t have a _name_.”

“But they’re all so…_blergh_!” she exclaimed. “The name has to be _perfect_, Morgan. It can’t just be something we throw out there because we couldn’t think of anything else. They’re going to have this name for the _rest of their life_. It has to be _perfect_.”

Morgan looked at his wife. “Are these the hormones talking? Because last week that little girl in the grocery store was named Amelia and you said it was cute.”

“It _is_ a cute name, but not for my own child,” Bee was firm.

“Okay…” Morgan facepalmed, unable to see the reasoning – or lack thereof – in Bee’s denial of all the baby names he’d thrown at her. “We should take a break.”

“Can you bring me a piece of the banana loaf I made earlier?” she asked sweetly, as if she hadn’t just shot down every name he suggested. “I can’t move. Maggie’s sleeping.”

Morgan looked down at her, sitting upright in bed, the cutest little smile on her face. There was six weeks left until her due date and she was huge. _Massive_. He didn’t understand the physics of it. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“This is your seed that’s making me so picky,” she winked. “I was never like this before.”

“Hmm, you think so,” Morgan quipped, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“HEY!”

*

**February 4th, 2025**

Bee was literally waddling. It was embarrassing. But she was _huge_. And movement was getting more and more impossible by the day. She couldn’t stay on her feet for too long. She couldn’t sit down for too long. Some days, she felt like she couldn’t _exist_ for too long. Her ankles swelled. She had the worst heartburn ever. She had to pee every thirty seconds. Her back hurt. Her back always fucking hurt.

But none of that mattered, because Leon Rocco Joseph Bennett was finally in the world.

Mason had called in the middle of the night, letting her know that Angie’s water broke and they were on their way, but to stay sleeping and come in the morning because it was very obviously going to take a while. Well, it didn’t. Within six hours Angie gave birth to a healthy boy, and Bee was woken up with another phone call with the news.

“Ma’am, are you lost? Do you need me to take you back to your room?” a very polite and helpful nurse stopped Bee in the hallway, her eyes focused on Bee’s enormous bump.

“Oh, I’m not – no, I’m not due yet,” Bee laughed slightly. “I’m actually here for a friend.”

“You look like you’re about to pop.”

“Next week!” Bee scurried down the hall, not wanting the nurse to hold her against her will.

When she finally arrived to Angie’s room, she saw Josh holding his nephew, cooing at him softly. Rocco was standing behind him, watching closely, while Clarette was sitting on the chair beside Angie’s bed. “Hellooooo,” she said softly, smiling at everybody.

“Hey!” Clarette exclaimed, standing to give her a big hug. After she finished, Bee moved on to Angie, sitting up in the bed, bending down to hug her tightly.

Inevitably, Bee’s giant bump got in the way, causing Angie to laugh. “You’re about to pop any second, Bee.”

“You popped first though,” Bee commented. “I better have a six hour labour like you or else I’m calling the police.”

“You wanna hold him?” Josh asked, approaching her slowly. “He’s just as much your nephew as he is mine.”

Josh passed Leon over gently, and Bee rested him on her bump as she held him in her arms. “Hi Leon,” she cooed gently as she took a seat on the edge of Angie’s bed. “Hello Leon. It’s me. It’s Bee.”

As Leon’s eyes looked up at hers, she felt a shiver run up her spine, realizing that in a very, _very_ short amount of time, she’d be holding her own baby, her own son or daughter, in her arms lovingly.

She smiled.

*

**Saturday February 15th, 2025**

“Oh my _Lord_, Bee,” Aryne commented as she hugged her…well, tried to hug her. It had to become one of those more awkward side-hugs because of Bee’s girth. “You’ve dropped, haven’t you?”

“I don’t even know anymore. I’m two weeks overdue. I just…I just want my back to stop hurting,” Bee sighed.

“Should you even _be_ here?” Aryne cautioned, trying to take in how big and round one of her best friends was. The roar of the crowd could already be heard as people filed into Scotiabank Arena. “I know it’s Hockey Night in Canada and it’s against the Habs but…”

“I was adamant that I was going to be here,” Bee shook her head. “I need to…I don’t know, not be cooped up in my house all day. I need to _get out_. Hopefully I’ll be able to fit in the damn seats.”

Aryne was cautious as Bee waddled around the family room before they made their way down to their seats. She was secretly thankful that Jace and Isabella weren’t there that night, because she felt like Bee was going to pop at any moment. She could see the physical discomfort in Bee’s face anytime she had to get up from her seat or go up and down a set of stairs. Bee tried to hide it but Aryne could see. She’d been through it twice before. She knew.

Aryne tried to be extra attentive to the physical discomfort that would manifest itself on Bee’s face, but between the faces Bee was making for what was happening during the game and the faces she was making from whatever the baby was doing inside her, Aryne couldn’t keep up.

With Morgan already getting two assists on the goals by John and Auston by the mid-way point of the second period, Bee was a happy camper as she stood up and waddled her way to the washroom. Aryne waited patiently for her to come back, but as the period went on, and the TV breaks were taken, Aryne got worried. She budgeted a bit of extra time, but Bee still hadn’t returned. On instinct, she checked her phone.

_Can you come help me in the washroom? _

_Ones in the family room._

Aryne jolted out of her seat. She ran up the stairs and back into the friends and family room, knocking on the bathroom door dramatically. “It’s me!” she called out.

Bee opened the door almost automatically. She seemed fine. “Hey.”

“Are you alright?” Aryne demanded.

“Aryne, I need you to remain calm when I tell you this,” she cautioned, “but I need you to take me to the hospital.”

Aryne’s eyes bulged out of her head. “Baby’s coming?”

“Baby’s coming.”

Aryne nodded, grabbing hold of Bee’s hand. “Let me get somebody’s attention to tell Morgan--”

“No.”

Aryne stopped for a moment. “Bee--”

“Let him finish the game. He’s having a good game. It’s only, like, half an hour. It’ll be fine. The baby isn’t going to be born in half an hour.”

“_Briony_.”

“Call Angie and Mason, please? And Clarette and Rocco. But don’t let anybody tell Morgan until he’s in the tunnel and we’ve won the game.”

*

Morgan was elated. He got three assists on their 5-0 win over the Montreal Canadiens and Freddie’s shutout made it that much sweeter. The boys were in a great mood, loud and ecstatic as they cheered down the hallway that led them back to their locker room. Media were already running around, prepping themselves for post-game interviews.

As he turned the corner, one of the Leafs personnel got his attention, literally stepping in front of him to get him to stop walking. “Mr. Rielly?”

“Yes?”

“Bee’s in labour. You need to go.”

Morgan’s eyes bulged out of his head. “Bee’s – what?! Bee’s in labour?”

“Yes.”

“Where is she?” he demanded.

“She’s already at the hospital.”

“Already at the – what the hell?! When – where – when did she leave?!” he dropped his stick and practically threw off his helmet.

“Sir, she was adamant that I not to tell you during the game --”

“I gotta go,” Morgan shook his head, rushing back into the locker room. A lot of the guys were already out of their jerseys, looking at him as he burst in. “Chief, I gotta go _now_,” he directed at Sheldon Keefe, pulling his jersey over his head quickly.

“What’s going on?” Sheldon asked.

“Bee’s in labour.”

A round of loud whoops and hollers from the boys filled the locker room as he took off his gear, causing him to smile. He knew he’d see some of them after everything – after his _first child_ was born – and he knew someone would probably mention it to a reporter since the ones waiting outside _definitely_ heard everyone screaming about it. But in less time than it took him to make one of his famous grilled cheese sandwiches that Bee craved all throughout his pregnancy, he was out the door and speeding through the Toronto streets, on his way to the hospital.

*

**Tuesday, February 18th, 2025**

So it wasn’t a six-hour labour like Bee had hoped.

Bee was in labour for two days.

It was almost unbearable. It was a prolonged labour, obviously, due to slow dilation, but nothing else – the baby was monitored heavily, and everything was fine in that regard. But Bee was uncomfortable, and Morgan was antsy, and Aryne kept calling to make sure everything was okay, and Tyler kept calling to make sure everything was okay, and Shirley and Andy were flying in from Vancouver and…

It was a lot. There was a lot of monitoring. A lot of checking up. A lot of talk about inducing labour if things didn’t progress. It was because it was a big baby. Morgan barely slept, but that was fine. Andy and Shirley landed and were taking a taxi straight to the hospital. Morgan would have to make decisions. Bee would have to make the ultimate decisions. Yes to an epidural. Yes to this. Yes to that. Tried to sleep. Tried to walk. Tried to this, tried to that. Then the doctor checked on Bee again and said she was almost fully dilated.

And then, like lightning, she was fully dilated. It was time to push.

Morgan changed into a pair of scrubs thanks to the nurses. Bee’s legs were propped up on those stilts as she groaned in pain and held onto his hand for dear life, squeezing it so hard his blood circulation stopped. Morgan helped coach her breathing, helped her count, helped the nurses count as she pushed. He caressed her head, told her how amazing she was doing.

“Bee, push for one…two…three…four…”

“AAAAAOOOOOWWWWWW!!!!!”

“You got this Bumblebee, you got it. Push. Push.”

“And again Bee, for one…two…three…”

“We see the head Bee! You’re crowning! Keep pushing! Keep pushing!”

“You’re doing a great job, Bumblebee.”

“One more time Bee. For one…two…three…four…five…six…”

And then, there were cries. Loud, ear-shattering, healthy cries of a baby. And when Bee opened her eyes, and when Morgan looked over, the doctor was holding up their baby.

Their son.

“Congratulations! It’s a boy!” she announced happily, placing the baby on Bee’s chest delicately as it continued to wail and scream at his new surroundings that were _most definitely_ not as cozy as his previous living arrangements.

Bee began to cry from pure happiness and elation as she touched her son, cradling him against her chest. “Hi baby,” she cried out, kissing the top of his head softly. “We’ve been waiting for you. You’re finally here.”

Morgan had tears running down his cheeks as he looked down on his wife and son. _His son._ He leaned in and cradled his son’s head in his large hands, taking a deep breath in. “We have a son,” he whispered in astonishment, looking at Bee. She had the same look of wonder in her eyes. “We have a son.”

The nurses and midwives began to clean him, wiping him down and suctioning the mucus and other fluids out of his throat and nose. Their son continued to wail and cry, but both Bee and Morgan knew that was healthy. That was what he was supposed to be doing. Bee whispered soothing words to him, kissing the top of his head again gently.

“Hey dad,” their doctor said, handing Morgan a small pair of medical scissors. “Do the honours.”

_ Dad_. Morgan almost sobbed at the word _dad_. He could barely register the rest of the sentence. He took the scissors and carefully cut the umbilical cord.

“Mrs. Rielly, we need to quickly go weigh and measure him now for the records, but we’ll bring him back to you quickly wrapped in his blanket, or you can continue your skin-to-skin contact,” the midwife smiled.

Bee nodded her head as the midwife scooped up their son in a clean towel, watching as she brought the baby over to the scale. Morgan watched too, the nurses suctioning the last of the mucus out of his mouth and nose before readying the receiving blanket. The other nurses helped clean up around Bee, making her feel comfortable again. Everything that she read in the baby books happened. “Nine pounds, eight ounces,” one of the nurses announced to them with a giant smile on her face. “A big, bouncing baby boy.”

Bee looked up at Morgan. She was tired, she was exhausted, she had just given birth to a nine pound baby, but she had a smile on her face. “We have a son,” she repeated her words from earlier. “Morgan, we have a son.”

“You were amazing,” he whispered, bending down to kiss her quickly. “You did so well, Bumblebee. I’m in awe of you.”

After everything was completed and baby was taken care of, he was brought back to Bee and Morgan swaddled in a blanket, with a cute little hat on his head. “You can remove the blanket if you’d like, and continue the skin-to-skin,” the nurse explained, “because we noticed he’s rooting. Baby’s already hungry. We’ll help with the latching.”

Bee became nervous. She knew how difficult breastfeeding was for a lot of women, but she wanted so desperately to be able to breastfeed her baby and establish that bond right from the beginning. But there were always problems, and complications, and she was nervous about the baby not latching and her doing something wrong and not producing enough milk and not being good enough and –

She couldn’t think about that now. Her baby was hungry. So she began to do what she read about in all the baby books. She lowered her hospital gown, she moved their son into a comfortable position. The nurse helped with the placement, and he latched on quickly. He began to suck almost automatically.

“Do you feel a tugging sensation, Mrs. Rielly?” the nurse asked. Bee nodded her head. “A tugging sensation, not a pinching.”

“I feel tugging,” Bee confirmed, nodding her head. “Tugging.”

The small sounds of him sucking could be heard, and the nurse smiled. “You’re good to go, Mrs. Rielly. I’ll leave you two for a bit for some privacy and time alone. We’ll be around – just buzz if he stops or loses his latch.”

As the nurse left the room, Morgan settled in beside Bee on the bed, cradling the baby’s head in his hand again, leaning down to kiss it gently once again. “Does it feel okay?” he asked.

Bee nodded her head. “I can feel it. It’s…I can feel it.”

“Okay. Okay,” Morgan whispered, kissing her forehead. “You’re amazing, Briony. I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” she said, looking up at him to kiss him before focusing on their baby again.

They were silent for a while, just watching their son as he fed, his eyes closed as he continued to suck. Bee couldn’t keep her eyes off of him. He was perfect in every way possible, and she couldn’t believe she was so lucky. She was a mom.

“I want to name him Andrew,” Bee said suddenly, a few stray tears still rolling down her cheeks. She looked up at Morgan snuggled into her, his hand caressing his son’s head delicately again. “It has to be Andrew. Andy.”

“Like dad?”

“Yeah,” she nodded her head, looking down at her son. “I don’t care what the middle name is. But it has to be Andrew.”

“Then it’s going to be Andrew,” Morgan smiled, a tear rolling down his cheek.

*

_The Toronto Maple Leafs and the entire MLSE organization would like to extend our heartfelt congratulations to Maple Leafs defenceman Morgan Rielly and his wife Briony Rielly on the birth of their son, Andrew John Rielly. _

_Morgan Rielly will not be travelling with the team to play in the Wednesday, February 19th game against the New York Rangers to ensure the health and wellbeing of his family._


	45. Epilogue 4: The Sweetest Eyes I've Ever Seen

**Alone, Together: Epilogue 4**

**January 13th, 2028**

Bee heard the doorbell ring as she finished loading Andy’s bowl in the dishwasher. After a nice and calm breakfast of Dino Eggs oatmeal with fruit (Andy’s favourite), he was already playing with his see and spell puzzle toys on the carpet in the family room quietly, Maggie laying down beside him, his trusty little red fox plush toy he aptly named Pip watching him. He was still in his comfy onesie pyjamas, and Bee knew he wouldn’t want to change out of them. Hopefully their guest at the door would make him want to change his mind.

Andy perked up once he heard the doorbell ring. “Who’s at my house?”

Bee couldn’t help but laugh at his question – something he’d started to say recently whenever the doorbell rang. She thought it was the cutest thing in the world. “I don’t know! Let’s go see!” she extended her had out to him so he could follow her to the front door. He grabbed Pip and held him in his hands as he scurried towards Bee, Maggie following close behind.

When she opened it for the big reveal, Andy started hopping up and down excitedly. “_Tyler_!!!” he screamed before running out and jumping to avoid the snow.

Tyler caught him perfectly and scooped him up in his arms. “Heeeeyyyyyy little man!” he smiled from ear to ear as he balanced Andy on his hip as he walked into the house. “How’s my godson doing?”

“G…G…Good,” Andy stuttered out, smiling from ear to ear.

“Are you excited to see me?”

“_Yes_!” he exclaimed. “W…What are you doing at my house?”

“Well, mommy called me because she said you went to the library yesterday and got some new books,” Tyler explained. “And you know how much I love reading books to you.”

Andy’s eyes lit up like fireworks. He looked at Bee. “Mommy, Tyler can read my b…b…books to me?”

“Yes he can,” she smiled. “How about you go up to your room and get them.”

Andy wiggled out of Tyler grasp and climbed the stairs one step at a time, trying to go as quickly as his little feet would let him. Tyler and Bee hugged in the foyer before he began to take off his boots and unzip his jacket. “The stuttering’s gotten better,” Tyler commented.

Bee nodded her head. When Andy started to talk and develop words and sentences, she and Morgan noticed right away that he was stuttering. They thought it was maybe just a kid thing, because a lot of kids stutter when they’re first learning words or developing sentences to speak, but Andy’s problem persisted. Now that he was able to string words together to create sentences, the issue was more pronounced. It was definitely noticeable to everyone – the rude ones pointed it out; the good ones were patient with him like everyone should be. “A little, yeah. We started him in speech therapy once a week.”

“It’s working.”

“We’re hoping,” she said. “We’re trying to get him to talk more to other kids too. We can tell he sometimes avoids it. Even if it persists…we just want him to feel that it’s okay.”

“Well, of course,” Tyler said. “He’s a smart kid, sweetcheeks. He’s three and he can already read some words better than I can.”

Bee snorted, shoving Tyler playfully. “You want some coffee or what? Morgan should be home in ten minutes and then we’ll leave you to it.”

*

“Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Rielly, I can confirm you’re pregnant again,” Dr. Greenblatt smiled at Morgan and Bee.

“Oh, perfect!” Bee smiled from ear to ear as Morgan squeezed her hand. “We…I mean, we’ve been trying for a couple of months. It’s nice for it to be official!”

“You’re eleven weeks according to the schedule you provided, and your blood work, which means you’re due in late July,” he looked over the documents in his file. “But everything looks good. I know there were some difficulties at the beginning. You mentioned there were no symptoms from when you had your two early miscarriages.”

“Right.”

“Well, Mr. and Mrs. Rielly, everything looks good on my end. I can book you in with the ultrasound technician we have if you’d like your sonogram,” Dr. Greenblatt offered.

“That would be perfect,” Morgan said.

*

When Morgan and Bee walked into their house, they saw Tyler and Andy – holding Pip – cuddled on the couch. Tyler was reading Robert Munsch’s _Andrew’s Loose Tooth_, and Bee could see _Moose, Thomas’ Snowsuit, David’s Father_, and _Just One Goal!_ on the coffee table in front of them. Andy was still wearing his pyjamas. There was a blanket draped over Tyler’s legs. It was all very cute.

“How are my boys doing?” Bee announced as she walked into the family room, leaning over the couch. Andy barely moved from his spot, too comfortable against Tyler’s chest and too entranced in _Andrew’s Loose Tooth_ (though it was probably the 50th time he’d read the book) to even look up.

“Hi mama, hi dada,” Andy said absent-mindedly. He wiggled a bit in Tyler’s arms to get his attention. “Keep reading.”

Tyler wiggled his eyebrows at Bee and Morgan before turning the page and continuing to read. Bee laughed as she walked around the corner of the sectional couch, bent over, and kissed the top of Andy’s head before messing up his hair slightly.

*

After a homemade lunch, more playtime with Tyler (read: playing ministicks with Tyler, who was on his knees, and “bodychecking” him so he would fall over dramatically), his regular afternoon nap, and dinner, Andy was tired and ready for his 8pm bedtime. He had already changed himself into his pyjamas, and Morgan helped him brush his teeth before carrying him to his bed where Bee was waiting.

“I b…b…brush my teeth mama,” Andy said as he emerged from the washroom, Pip securely in his arm as he climbed into bed.

“Good job,” she smiled, pulling the covers back. Andy wiggled underneath the covers and Morgan sat on the opposite side of the bed, looking at him lovingly. Once he was underneath and lying down, his head on the pillow, Pip tucked into him, and the comforter stuffed around him, just how he liked it (“Make me a burrito!” he’d yell on more boisterous nights), Bee took a deep breath. “Andy…daddy and I have something to tell you.”

“What?”

Morgan looked at Bee quickly before looking back at Andy. “Boobear, you know how Jace has a little sister, Isabella?”

“Yes,” Andy nodded his head. “J…Jace and Isabella are my f…f…friends.”

“And you know how Henry has a little brother, Jacob?” Bee continued.

Andy nodded his head again. “Henry and J…Jacob are my friends too. But they live f…far away.”

“Well Andy, you’re going to be a big brother too now,” Morgan smiled at his son. Andy’s eyes went wide as he realized what his dad was telling him. “Mommy has a baby in her belly and in July or August you’re going to have a new brother or sister.”

Andy looked towards his mom. “Mommy…there b…baby in your belly?”

“Mhm,” Bee nodded her head. She put her hand over her stomach and, although there was barely anything there yet, she tried to cup _something_ so Andy could get the visual.

“Boy or girl?”

“We don’t know. We’ll find out when the baby comes,” she said.

“When baby comes I…I going to be a b…b…big boy,” Andy said matter-of-factly. Morgan and Bee laughed. “I going to be good big b…brother.”

“Yes you will be, boobear,” Morgan said, leaning down to kiss his son. “You can teach baby how to read, how to build Lego--”

“I teach b…baby all the animals,” Andy interjected.

“Exactly! See! You’re going to be a great big brother,” Morgan smiled. “Think about all the things you’re gonna teach baby when they’re here, okay?”

“Okay,” Andy smiled contently as his eyelids started to droop from drowsiness.

“Goodnight boobear. Daddy loves you,” Morgan cooed.

“I love you daddy.”

“Goodnight Andy. Mommy loves you.”

“I love you mommy.”

*

**April 16th 2028**

Bee woke up on a Sunday morning to kisses on her neck and shoulder. Since being with Morgan, it was her favourite way to wake up, and truthfully, she never got sick of it. He almost over-indulged her with it. It has been ten years since it started, and it was still the best; the most comforting feeling; the thing she looked forward to the most.

Bee smiled to herself as she felt his tongue graze her skin, his breath hot as he moved up her neck and towards her ear. She took a deep breath in. At that moment, he knew she was awake. “G’morning,” his voice was coarse and full of sleep, but he continued to kiss her.

“Morning, you big moose,” she mumbled. She felt the arm wrapped around her move down slightly the cup her growing bump. At twenty-six weeks now, she was just slightly smaller than she was at twenty-six weeks with Andy (judging by pictures), but was experiencing much of the same symptoms of pregnancy. The back pain, the swelled ankles, the dramatic girth.

Morgan continued his kisses. “How you feelin’?”

“Good.”

“You think we can--”

“Please Morgan. _Please_.”

He didn’t need to be asked twice. He helped her wiggle out of her pyjama pants and top, and began kissing his way down her body, paying particular attention to her breasts. “I wanna taste you,” he mumbled.

Bee nodded her head. “Go. Go.”

He dove in. She was sensitive these days, and her senses all the more heightened, so when he began lapping at her, there was an automatic reaction. He hadn’t tired of this, either – eating her out like she was the last meal on earth. He hadn’t tired of much, really. He was still obsessed with her; still obsessed with her taste and how she felt wrapped around him; how warm her walls were and how they clenched around his cock whenever he helped her reach her climax. Every time was still special. The quick ones, the long ones, the ones where she dressed up, the ones where they used only their hands and mouths, the ones that made them scream, the ones that kept them quiet, the ones that were frantic, the ones that were nice and slow, the ones that led them to orgasm over and over again. Every time was still the best time.

After making her orgasm twice with his tongue, she began to tug on his hair. Her breathing was hot and heavy as she kissed him sloppily, tasting her juices on him, before she bit his bottom lip playfully. “Lay on your back,” she said.

In return, he bit her bottom lip too. “Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?”

“I wanna ride you,” she said. “Unless you don’t want me to.”

Morgan groaned, flipping over onto his back. “Get up here.”

Bee took her time, taking off her pyjama shirt first before making sure she was comfortable as she lowered herself onto him slowly. Morgan’s hands were on her hips, helping to guide her. “Does it feel okay?”

She looked down at him. His mouth was still glistening with her juices. She nodded her head and closed her eyes. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

“_Never_. Never,” he shook his head, propping himself up so he could kiss her. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful. You don’t even know. You’re so sexy and beautiful.”

“Even as a big ol’ pregnant lady?” she giggled slightly, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to steady herself now that she was riding him in his lap rather than with him lying down.

“_Especially_ as a big ol’ pregnant lady,” he kissed her. “You have no idea Briony. You’ve given me my children, my family. You’ve given me my world. The gifts you’ve given me…there are no words to describe how much I love you.”

“And _you’ve_ given me _my_ world,” she whispered, kissing him one last time before pushing him back down onto his back. She continued to ride him slowly, trying to make the intimacy of the moment last as long as possible. Today, their house would be full of people, and while she loved hosting, she loved every minute of alone time she got with Morgan even more.

“Y’okay, baby?” she asked. “I’m close.”

“Make yourself cum on my cock, Briony.”

That was what she loved to hear. After over ten years and countless amounts of dirty talk, it still got her off. She moaned loudly as she began shaking on top of him, her orgasm coursing through her. “_Fuuuuuuuck_, Morgan,” she mewled out.

“That’s my good girl,” he cooed.

Bee couldn’t help but smile at his words as she came down from her orgasm. Eventually, she lay down at Morgan’s side, cuddling up to him. One of Morgan’s arms wrapped around her, while another rested between her legs, feeling her wetness. Morgan kissed her. “I love you so much,” she mumbled against his lips.

“I love you too.”

There was a few minutes of silence as they both caught their breaths, Morgan kissing her a few more times. Before Bee could get too comfortable, she looked at Morgan. “I think I’m gonna take a shower before Andy wakes up.”

Morgan smiled. “Wish I could join you.”

After about half an hour, Bee emerged from the bathroom, he hair wet but brushed through, a new pair of pyjamas on her. “You think Andy’s awake yet?” she asked as she made her way back towards the bed.

As if on cue, they heard the door from Andy’s room burst open. “Here comes the earthquake,” Morgan mumbled into his pillow as the heavy footsteps of Andy were heard running down the hallway. Bee chuckled at all the noise his little feet made; she couldn’t believe someone so small could make so much noise.

The door burst open. “Mommy! Daddy!” he scurried over, immediately climbing into the bed. “I have B…B…Brucey with me!” he screamed. A loud, happy meow from Bruce followed. “Brucey slept in my b…bed last night.”

“Is that a little bear I hear sneaking into my bed?” Morgan asked. The second he saw Andy let go of Bruce, Morgan growled like a bear and wrapped his arms around his son dramatically, pulling him into the bed and against his chest. Andy began to laugh uncontrollably as Morgan began kissing him all over. Andy tried to get away but Morgan was too strong, squeezing him even tighter as he peppered him with kisses. Bee took the opportunity to slip her hand into the drawer of her bedside table and pull out a single small chocolate egg, placing it on top of the table for Andy to find.

When Morgan stopped peppering his son with kisses, he turned over onto his back and lifted Andy up on his legs like an airplane. Andy couldn’t stop laughing as Morgan held his hands. “You remember what today is, big man?”

Andy nodded his head. “T…Today is Easter.”

“Are you excited for everybody to be at our house?” Bee finally piped up after looking on adoringly at her two boys. “Aunt Angie, Uncle Mason, and Leon, Grandma Shirley and Grandpa Andy and--”

“Mama, what’s that?” he asked, pointing to something behind her.

Bee smiled. She turned around dramatically to look at what he was pointing to: the little chocolate egg she had put on the bedside table. “Where?”

“There,” he pointed again. Morgan lowered him. “Mama, is that…d…did the Easter b…b…bunny come to our house?!”

“I think so!”

Andy’s eyes lit up like fireworks. He looked down at his dad. “Dada, we need to f…find all the eggs!”

“Let’s go!”

*

**Saturday, July 1st, 2028**

“Mommyyyyyy! I see f…f…fishies!” Andy screamed excitedly as he bent over the boat to look in the water. Morgan held Andy in his arms, leaning him over the boat to see the water and look at whatever fish Andy saw (or didn’t really see).

“Be careful!” she yelled out to him. “Don’t go too far over!”

“Mommy come see the fishies!”

“Mommy can’t come right now,” she said, resting her hand on her large bump. “You need to tell mommy what you see.”

Andy looked back dramatically at his mom. Clearly he did not like her answer. “Is it because of b…baby?” he asked.

“No, boobear.”

Andy wiggled out of Morgan’s arms and walked over the Bee resting on the back bench of the boat. He placed his hands on the sides of her bump and put his face right next to it. “Baby…we’re in V…V…Vancouver and we’re on a b…boat,” Andy said into Bee’s bump. “You have to be s…safe on a boat. You have to wear a lifejacket so you don’t f…f…fall into the water. Stop moving so mommy can see the f…fishies!”

Bee couldn’t help but chuckle. “It’s not because of the baby, Andy.”

“Then why c…can’t you come?”

“Mommy is very tired because I didn’t sleep well last night,” she said.

“Because of the baby!”

“No!” she couldn’t help but giggle. “You silly boy. It’s not because of the baby.”

Andy turned back and made his way back towards Morgan with his hands up, signalling that he wanted to be picked up again. As Morgan did so, he bent Andy over the edge of the boat again. “W…Where did the fishes go?” he asked.

“I think they swam away,” Morgan said.

“We have to go f…find them!” Andy exclaimed, looking at his dad. “Did they go to their h…h…home?”

“I think so.”

“Dada…do the f…fishies live like where Nemo lives?”

Morgan chuckled to himself. “No boobear. These fish live here in Vancouver. Nemo lives all the way on the other side of the Pacific Ocean in a place called Australia, in the Great Barrier Reef.”

“C…Can we go there?”

“Maybe one day,” Morgan kissed Andy’s cheek. “You wanna go find Nemo?”

Andy nodded his head. “I wanna find Nemo and D…D…Dory and the sea turtles!” he exclaimed. “We go with m…mamma and my new b…brother or sister.”

“That sounds like an amazing family trip,” Morgan commented. “Can Grandma Shirley and Grandpa Andy come too?”

“Yup!”

“What about Aunt Angie and Uncle Mason?”

“Of course!” he exclaimed like it was the most obvious thing in the world, causing Morgan to chuckle again. “My best friend Leon _has_ to come with us!”

“Then it’s set!” he pulled Andy from over the boat to walk back towards where Bee was sitting. “Guess what mama! Pack your bags! We’re going to Australia!”

*

**Monday, July 31st, 2028**

Morgan could see the eyes and hair of Andy looking over the ledge of the skating rink at Hollyburn Country Club as he skated around the ice, doing a few warm-up laps with the other skaters so Andy could see him skate before trying to skate himself. Morgan waved at his son, and began to make his way over to where he was.

Andy didn’t move from standing on his tiptoes, looking past the ledge onto the ice, even as Morgan skated towards him, opening the gate and walking onto the soft ground. “Did you see me wave, Andy?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Did you see Grandma and Grandpa out there?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you ready to skate just like daddy?”

Andy didn’t respond. He looked out onto the ice for a few more seconds before slowly making his way over to the bench, sitting in front of Morgan who was already ready with the skates in his hand. As Morgan shoved them on and began tightening them, Andy became nervous. He tried to look over his shoulder to see if he could see the ice again, but he couldn’t. That made him all the more nervous. He looked back at his dad, shoving the other lace onto his left foot now.

“Dada…” Andy said uneasily, looking down at the skate Morgan was already tying up on his feet.

“Yeah, boobear?”

“I’m s…s…scared.”

The second the words escaped from Andy’s mouth, Morgan stopped his movements. He set down his foot gently as he looked at Andy worriedly. “Why are you scared?”

The small pout that formed on his face said enough. “What if I’m not g…good at skating like the other kids like I’m not good at t…t…talking like the other kids?”

Morgan’s heart broke into a million pieces. “Oh, Andy…” he said as Andy shed a tear. “Andy, that doesn’t matter _at all_.”

“I _want_ to t…t…talk like all th…th…the other k…k…kids but I c…c…can’t, no matter how h…hard I t…t…try.”

Morgan moved closer to his son so he could hug him tightly. He hugged him for such a long time, but Andy didn’t pull away as he cried on Morgan’s shoulder. Morgan snaked his hand underneath the Rielly jersey his son wore to rub his back soothingly. “It’s okay, Andy. It’s okay,” he cooed over and over. “Andy, I want you to listen to me, okay? Look at me,” he said, finally pulling away. He wiped the tears away from Andy’s eyes and cheeks before he could continue. “It doesn’t matter that you stutter and the other kids don’t. It doesn’t matter _at all_. Remember how mommy and I say that _what_ you say is more important than _how_ you say it?” Morgan asked. Andy nodded his head. “That’s what matters, boobear. You’re still such a smart boy. You’re so smart and you’re so _nice_ to all the other boys and girls. And you have so many friends who love you. You have your best friend Leon and you have Jace, and Isabella, and Henry and Jacob and Naylah and – Andy, listen. You’re _always_ good enough, okay? _You’re always good enough_.”

“Okay…” he said, his voice still a bit uneasy. “But dada, wh…what if I can’t s…s…skate like you can? Or like J…Jace? Jace is good at s…s…skating.”

“Then that’s okay, boobear,” Morgan said. “You just have to _try_. If you never try then you never know if you can do it, right?”

“Right.”

“You wanna know a secret?”

Andy’s eyes went wide. “What?”

“One day, Grandpa Andy counted how many times I fell on my bum when I learned how to skate,” he said. “Guess what the number was.”

“F…Five?”

“One hundred and seventy two,” Morgan said dramatically, causing Andy’s jaw to drop. “One hundred and seventy two! But guess what? Daddy got up one hundred and seventy three times. Daddy kept trying and trying and trying and eventually, daddy learned how to skate.”

“And now daddy is a hockey player,” Andy said matter-of-factly.

“That’s right,” Morgan smiled. “So it doesn’t matter if you fall, Andy. It doesn’t even matter if you don’t like hockey. That’s okay too. But you have to try.” Morgan could feel a new sense of confidence emanating from Andy as he finished his story. Andy looked determined and ready. “Are you ready to try skating, Andy?”

“Yes dada. I’m ready.”

*

**Tuesday, August 1st, 2028**

“Take a deep breath in…and push for one…two…three…”

“AAAAAOOOOOWWWWW!!!!!”

“Five…six…seven…”

“You’re doing amazing, Bumblebee. Amazing.”

“Push again for one…two…three…four…four…four--”

Blood-curdling cries filled the room. Bee opened her eyes to see a baby being held in front of her – a beautiful, healthy baby screaming at the top of it’s lungs. From beside her, Morgan smiled.

“It’s a girl!” one of the nurses announced, laying their baby girl down on Bee’s chest, facing Morgan. She wailed and wailed and wailed, and Bee cried and cried and cried. Morgan looked into the eyes of his daughter and started crying too.

He had a daughter. A _daughter_.

“Hey dad – one more time,” the doctor said as she held out a pair of surgical scissors for Morgan to snip the umbilical cord. He did so while the other nurses tended to Bee and the baby, sucking the mucus out of her mouth and nose and wiping her down just like they did Andy when he was born.

Despite the actions of everyone working around him, Morgan couldn’t take his eyes off his daughter. He knew they’d have to take her away soon to weigh and measure her, but he became entranced with her, and the fact that he now had a daughter – he was the _father_ to a _son_ and a _daughter_ – to call his own.

“Mrs. Rielly, we’ll just take her to measure and weigh, then bring her back wrapped for you,” one of the nurses said.

When the baby was gone, Bee looked to Morgan. He leaned down and gave her a big kiss. “I’m a mom to a daughter,” she whispered. “Morgan I…I have a daughter.”

“You’re a mom to a daughter, Bumblebee,” he kissed her again quickly. “You’re going to be amazing.”

*

“Okay, we have to be quiet as we go inside. Baby might be sleeping,” Shirley said as she walked behind little Andy and big Andy. She could tell Andy was trying to maintain his composure and not do his little excited hops as they walked into the room. When they turned the corner, they saw Morgan holding the baby in his arms, lying in bed next to Bee who was looking on lovingly. When the couple noticed everybody enter the room, they smiled.

“Hey boobear,” Bee smiled from ear to ear, her voice still a little strained. “Do you want to come meet your baby sister?”

“I have b…b…baby sister?”

“Yes boobear. Come here. Come sit on mommy’s lap,” Bee patted.

Shirley lifted him up onto the bed as Morgan gave the baby to Bee to show Andy. Andy looked on wide-eyed at the little baby in his mommy’s hands. “She’s g…girl like Isabella?”

Bee couldn’t help but chuckle slightly. “Mhm. This is your sister Maia. Maia Claire Rielly.”

“M…M…Maia,” Andy repeated. “Mama, I be good b…big brother to Maia.”

“I know you will,” Bee kissed the top of his head.

“You wanna give Maia a kiss?” Morgan asked.

Andy bent down and placed a light kiss on her forehead. “Hi M…Maia. I’m your brother Andy. You’re in V…V…Vancouver right now. But we live in T…T…Toronto.” He stopped suddenly, realizing something very, _very_ important. “Dada, we t…take Maia home or she have to st…st…stay here?!”

Everybody laughed at Andy’s question. “Maia is coming home with us to Toronto, boobear. Don’t worry.”

*

**September 18, 2028**

“…and, you know, we’re just ready to get started, get going out there, making sure we get things done the way we want,” Morgan answered the latest reporter’s question in the media scrum following the opening day of training camp.

“Morgan --” a new reporter interrupted Paul Hendrick, “we saw that your family grew this summer with the arrival of your baby girl.”

Morgan couldn’t help the smile that overtook his face as the words left the reporter’s mouth. He knew it would be brought up because, unfortunately, a picture had leaked. An “extended family portrait”, so to speak: a picture of John, Aryne, Jace, and Isabella; Angie, Mason, and Leon; Morgan, Bee, Andy, and Maia; and Tyler, all hanging out in Aryne and John’s backyard at Jace’s birthday party last week. “Ah, thanks. We did have a baby girl. It feels great.”

“Mom and baby are doing well?”

“Sure are,” he kept smiling, looking at the reporters to change the subject.

“Do you want to speak a bit about it so--”

“No. We’re not going to talk about that. But mom and baby are healthy. Big brother is happy he’s got a sibling. We’ll leave it at that.”

*

_It’s a girl!_

_Morgan and Briony Rielly, along with big brother Andrew John, are delighted to announce the birth of their daughter, Maia Claire Rielly, born August 1st, 2028 at 3:42 pm, weighing 8lbs, 12oz, in Vancouver, British Columbia at the B.C. Women’s Hospital and Health Centre._

_Maia is welcomed into the Rielly family by her loving grandparents Andrew and Shirley Rielly. She is also welcomed into the extended Toronto Maple Leafs and MLSE family. Morgan and Briony would like to thank the staff at the B.C. Women’s Hospital and Health Centre for their hard work and dedication to the medial profession._


	46. Epilogue 5: Together

**Christmas Eve 2031**

Morgan’s heart was full as he stood at the kitchen island watching Andy and Maia finish decorating the small batch of gingerbread cookies for Santa Claus with Bee. Both kids were sitting on the countertop, fixing Smarties buttons and faces onto the icing before Bee scooped them off of the baking sheet and onto the plate. The entire time they had been working in the kitchen, there were giggles and kisses and singing, with Morgan sneaking bites of the dough, causing his kids to scream and want some for themselves (Bee digressed and let them have _only a little bit_). There were four cookies in total – one prepared to look like each member of the family.

“There we go! Our cookies are ready for Santa!” Bee exclaimed as she held the plate up. “Do you think Santa will like them?”

“He’s gonna think they’re so y…yummy,” Andy smiled proudly at his work. 

“Mama…” Maia said. “We need carrots for Rudolph and the reindeer!” She looked towards her father for help. “Dada, we need carrots for Rudolph!”

“C’mere Ladybug, come help me peel them,” he stretched out his arms, grabbing Maia so he could balance her on her hip as they walked towards the fridge. He opened them, going for the baby carrots first playfully.

“No!” Maia yelled out. “Rudolph and the reindeer are _big_! They need _big_ carrots! They need _those_ carrots!” she pointed at the big ones on another shelf. “They will be _hungry_.”

“Okay okay,” Morgan said, grabbing a baby carrot in the bag with one hand before shoving it in his mouth, crunching loudly. “Mmmmm, what if I ate all the carrots before Rudolph and the reindeer?”

“You _can’t_, dada,” Maia chastised her father. “That’s no fair. We need to be _nice_.”

Morgan smiled proudly at the words that came out of his daughter’s mouth. “Yes, you’re right Maia. We do need to be nice,” he affirmed as he kissed her cheek. “You’re so smart Maia.”

“Smart like mommy.”

Bee looked over her shoulder, giving Morgan a playful look. _“You’re so smart like mommy”_ was in Morgan’s lexicon for both of his children for the last three years. It was no wonder Maia picked it up. “Smart like daddy too,” he grumbled playfully, giving Bee a look too. “Okay, can you hand me the carrots so I can peel them?”

When all was said and done, Andy put the plate of gingerbread cookies on the coffee table, followed by Maia leaving the carrots. Bee poured a cup of milk and placed it next to the cookies. Andy even laid out a hand-written note signed by he and his sister, his near-perfect penmanship on display.

_Dear Santa Claus_

_My name is Andrew Rielly and I am 6 years old. My sister is Maia Rielly and she is 3 years old. We hope you enjoy our cookies and that Rudolph and the reindeer eat the carrots. Thank you for coming to our house. Thank you for the presents._

_Love_

_Andy and Maia._

“Okay…we’ve gotta go to bed now or else Santa Claus won’t come!” Bee announced. “Who’s ready to put on their PJs?!”

Andy and Maia raced upstairs with each other, disappearing into their bedrooms and getting their special Christmas pyjamas in their drawers. Morgan and Bee followed, taking them into the washroom to help them brush their teeth before bed. Bee went into Maia’s bedroom first, helping braid her hair before tucking her into bed. Morgan came in too, sitting opposite Bee on the bed.

“Mama?” Maia’s voice asked, the fatigue of the day finally showing in her voice. 

“Yes Ladybug?”

“Tomorrow, I can try flying like Rudolph?”

Morgan and Bee snorted at the same time. “I don’t think so,” Morgan said. “You can’t fly, Maia.”

Maia didn’t seem happy with her parents’ answer. But she digressed, pulling the covers up to her neck – exactly how she liked it. “Will Santa bring presents for Bruce and Maggie?”

“Of course he will,” Bee answered quickly. “Maggie’s been a good girl, hasn’t she?”

Maia nodded her head. “Maggie’s a sweet girl.”

“And Bruce?”

“Bruce too,” Maia said before yawning. She looked at Morgan with her sleepy eyes. “Dada, can we get another puppy?”

Morgan paused. He looked at Bee, who was already looking at him. Maia was waiting for an answer. “Maia…we’ll talk about it later, okay? You need to go to sleep or else Santa won’t come visit.”

“Okay…” Maia digressed. “Goodnight Mommy. Goodnight Daddy. You the best mommy and daddy ever.”

“Goodnight my Ladybug,” Morgan bent down to kiss her. “Sleep tight.”

“Goodnight Maia. Mommy loves you,” Bee kissed her too.

“I love you too Mommy.”

Morgan turned off the light as they left her room, closing the door gently. Bee gave him a look the entire time. They made their way towards Andy’s room, who was already in his bed, though he was stretching over to his bedside table, adjusting his Funko Pops of John Tavares and Auston Matthews. When he noticed his parents walk in, he stopped. “Hi mama, hi d…dada.”

“You ready to be made into a burrito?” Morgan asked, to which Andy nodded his head. Bee and Morgan tucked him in just how he liked, a giant smile on his face the entire time.

“Dada?” Andy’s little voice asked once they were done. 

“Yes my booboo bear?”

“Is S…S…Santa gonna visit my best friend Leon?” he asked, fighting with his eyelids to stay open instead of drop in their fatigue from the excitement of the day.

Morgan smiled as he caressed his little face. “Of course Santa is going to visit Leon. And I bet Leon will show you what he got from Santa tomorrow when he comes over with Aunt Angie, Uncle Mason, Nonno Rocco and Mémère Clarette.”

“And is Santa gonna visit J…J…Jace and Isabella? And Noam? And………Henry and Jacob?”

“Of course. He’s going to visit all of you because you’ve all been good boys and girls,” Morgan nodded his head.

Morgan watched as the gears in Andy’s head began shifting. He loved that he was able to see Andy’s mind working in real time, even for the simplest things. He was such an expressive boy. Even though he had a bit of a rough start at school, everything was better now and Andy was in a much better place. Andy’s brows burrowed and his face contorted a bit, all in an effort to think and not fall asleep. “Mommy?”

“Yes Andy?”

“You know how Santa has r…r…reindeer?”

“Yes…”

“How do they fly?”

Bee couldn’t help but smile. “I think if Santa told us, that would break the magic,” she said. She leaned in and kissed his forehead. “You’re such a smart boy, Andy.”

“I love you mommy,” he said softly, his eyes finally closing. 

“Mommy loves you so much Andy. You know Mommy loves you?”

“I know,” he barely got out. “I love you too Daddy.”

“I love you too, Andy.”

*

“We’re getting another dog, aren’t we?” Bee asked an hour later as both she and Morgan were downstairs on the main floor, putting out the presents from Santa. Bee stuffed the board game and books under the tree, while Morgan worked on the stocking stuffers.

“They’ve been asking for a _year_, Bumblebee,” Morgan said, as if that explained everything. “Bruce and Maggie are so good with the kids, and they’re good with animals…what’s another dog?”

Bee rolled her eyes playfully. “Is that why our iPad always has sheepadoodle Instagram profiles open whenever I get to it?”

“Maybe.”

Bee shook her head. “We’ll talk about it after the holidays.”

Bee watched as Morgan finished stuffing the stockings, making his way over to the coffee table before sitting on the couch and chomping into one of the carrots. She stayed silent as he chomped down on the others, finishing one so there were only two left that were mostly eaten. He then moved on to the cookies, taking dramatic bites and making sure to leave crumbs in and around the plate and on the coffee table. He ate most of them, leaving only remnants. 

Bee couldn’t help the tears that welled up in her eyes as she watched him. When he finally looked up at her, he noticed the tears automatically. “What’s wrong?”

“You did that for me twelve years ago now,” Bee reminisced, her eyes welling up with tears even more. Just saying how long it had been since he did that for her, one year into their relationship, was a lot for her to handle. “Do you remember?”

“Of course I remember,” Morgan said, getting up from the couch and making his way over to her. “I wanted to give you a normal Christmas.”

A lump in her throat formed at his words. “You’ve given me everything I’ve ever needed,” she said, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He instinctively wrapped his arms around her waist, squeezing her against his body. “Look how far we’ve come.”

“Look how far we’ve come _together_,” he added, kissing the tip of her nose. “Look at how much we’ve accomplished, how much we’ve grown, how much we’ve done, how much we’ve built…” he said. “We’ve come so far. And there’s still so much to go, still so much to do. _Together_. Because I love you, Briony Rielly. Forever.”

“I love you too,” she whispered, getting up on her tiptoes to kiss him passionately. “I love you so much, Morgan Rielly.” She couldn’t let go of him. She couldn’t stop kissing him. In her dream kitchen, on Christmas Eve, with her two children sleeping soundly upstairs, her two pets sleeping with them, she didn’t want the feeling to end. 

To think of where she started to where she now was. 

Briony McTavish of Toronto, Canada. Daughter of an alcoholic mother. Raised in rooming houses, homeless shelters, and public housing. Emancipated at sixteen. 

Briony McTavish of Toronto, Canada. A Master’s student. A poor, starving Master’s student. A teaching assistant at the University of Toronto. A _graduate_ of the University of Toronto. A junior financial analyst at Scotiabank.

Briony Rielly of Toronto, Canada. A Master of Financial Economics. A certified financial analyst at Scotiabank. Wife to Morgan Rielly of the Toronto Maple Leafs. A philanthropist. A mentor at Alateen. Co-founder of The Rielly Foundation. Mom to Andrew John and Maia Claire. 

She was complete.


End file.
